


Wolfswood Tavern

by WriterChick



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Banter, Bar Room Brawl, Bars and Pubs, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flirting, Motorcycles, Rough Sex, Roughness, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterChick/pseuds/WriterChick
Summary: This is from a modern alternate universe.  It is the same universe that the seriesThe Baelishes  is set in.  It follows Arya and her encounters with Bronn as well as Gendry at Wolfswood Tavern, her hangout.  It takes place between parts 3 and 4 of The Baelishes.





	1. Without All the Red

Arya took another swig from the bottle, bringing it with her as she threw her head back, guzzling more than a mouthful before she rocked forward and slammed it down on the table.  Her laughing only intensified when she saw foam erupt out of the top.  She lunged forward, extending her tongue out, licking the foam trail from the bottom of the bottle up.  

The group of people sitting at the table with her started hooting and hollering at her.  She laughed heartily before bringing each finger of her beer covered hand up to her mouth, sucking it clean.  Gendry sat under her, arms wrapped around her stomach, head perched over her shoulder, laughing in her ear.  She allowed the grubby weldor with the scruffy brown hair and the dirty smirk to hold her in his lap as if she were his because she knew she was going to fuck him tonight.  

He was becoming a regular thing,  _ Gendry _ .  She told herself to stop it now before he caught feelings as men got so attached.  She didn’t have the patience to be tied down like that.  Attachment bred expectation.  And she was not about to deal with another person’s bullshit expectations.  

She felt the bulge growing in his lap, and made sure to adjust herself to be cruel, as she had no intention of fucking just yet.  She felt him exhale on her shoulder, though she didn’t hear his groan over the noise of the crowded bar.  A nicer woman might have been sympathetic to his needs and called it an early night to be with him.  Maybe they would have gotten excited over the reaction they pulled out of him as they slid their ass around his lap.  

Arya, on the other hand, was still having fun with everyone.  He could suffer under her perky ass a little longer.  She’d get to him when she was ready.  She ultimately knew she would be ready soon enough because, as guys went, Gendry wasn’t anything to shrug at in the dick-department.  

She felt him kiss her shoulder and watched as his arm came around and his hand hovered up by her face.  She would have been annoyed by this, except that she noticed it had a pre-lit cigarette in it.  She accepted his offering, taking a long drag, and then watched it and the hand float away back to him.  It was then that she caught sight of him,  _ Bronn. _  He was sitting by the door, looking back at her.  The man from Sansa’s  _ wedding _ .  

Sansa’s Wedding Massacre would be a more suitable way to refer to it.  Arya had worked the leather on her pants with a toothbrush trying to get all the blood out for hours with no luck.  She had started working on the leather of the matching coat but stopped once she noticed all the holes and scuffs in it from the road rash where she had tipped her bike in the chase.  

It was an eventful day, to say the least.  But now a couple of days had passed, and people were meant to go back to normal.  Wolfswood Tavern was Arya’s day-to-day.  But that man, Bronn, was here.  Arya had never seen him here before, so she knew for damn sure that this was not his day-to-day.  She figured something must be wrong and had to find out.  She rose out of Gendry’s lap, “Going for a smoke.”  

He held up his hand, indicating the cigarette in it, and looked back at her laughing with a curious expression on his face.  She knew it didn’t make sense, as Wolfswood didn’t care if you smoked inside.  But something about Bronn made Arya not want to tell anyone that she was meeting him.  She chuckled and said, “Maybe I want some different scenery with my cigarette?  For fuck-sakes, get off my dick, Gen!”  

The whole table erupted in laughter, even Gendry.  He turned to the rest of their friends, attempting to save face as he laughed and theatrically threw his voice, “She tells me to get off  _ her _ dick, but later it’ll be all, ‘oh Gen, give me the cock, pah-leeese!’”

Arya couldn’t help but laugh at him.  Gendry was always great for a laugh, amongst other things.  She felt the blade she kept concealed on her hip, another one of his pieces.  He loved making blades in his spare time.  And that was a great benefit to her as she loved carrying a blade.  

She punched him in the shoulder playfully and turned away.  The seasoned hitman with a weathered face and undisputable skills for finding, killing, and cleaning his targets had disappeared.  Arya looked to either side of the room, people didn’t just disappear.  She walked at a determined pace towards the front door and threw it open.  She looked beyond the row of motorcycles, lined up outside the building.  She caught a glimpse of an outline just beyond the streetlight at the end of the parking lot.  She questioned if that was him, and if so, how did he get so far so quickly?  

Without thinking on it too hard, Arya started walking away from Wolfswood.  Before she knew it, she was picking up some speed and caught up to the outline at a quick jog.  She followed a couple of steps behind, not trying to hide the fact that she was behind him as she squinted her eyes trying to determine if he was who she thought he was.  She had only met the man once, after all.  And she was not herself at the time, or maybe she was entirely herself and just didn’t know it.  Arya had never  _ killed _ anyone before.  She had had a few close calls in the past with how long and hard she had pounded someone’s face during some heated moments.  But she had never actually successfully murdered another human being before that night.  

Her mind flashed to all the carnage that fell at her feet.  Her response to the situation was automatic.  They came at her and she fired.  It wasn’t about killing; it was about  _ stopping _ .  Stop the threat.  Stay alive.  Kill to not be killed.  And then she ran out of bullets.  

For a moment, she started reliving the time she clicked furiously at the goon running towards her.  She remembered the way her legs shook and her heart pounded in her ears when all of a sudden a man she did not know rolled past her, shooting down the enemy.  He moved so nimbly, removing the threat in front her.  He continued to fire as he crouched behind a crate, pulling her down beside him.  He spoke in a level voice, “Use your knife until you find another gun.”  

His face was intent on his work.  Arya blinked in amazement, realizing that he wasn’t panicked like she was, or even a little concerned for that matter.  She released the gun in her hands, letting it hit the deck with a thud--another thing she didn’t hear over the shots fired.  Her hand trembled as it reached down for the hilt of the knife she had attached to her thigh.  It was the same knife that her sister had nagged her about hours before.  Though, that had seemed like a lifetime away, as Arya counted every second she was still alive.  

She couldn’t hear much over the sound of the screams and shots fired, but somehow in that moment she heard the sound of the knife leave it’s sheath and she  _ knew _ she would be okay.  Deliberately she stood up, gripping the knife.  Bronn, looked at her and nodded, somehow knowing what she was thinking.  She nodded back at him, not seeing the man running towards her, and felt the wind knocked out of her as a meaty fist hit her abdomen.  She was shoved back with the force of it and brought her arms up defensively, slicing at the attacker with her knife.  Blood rained down as she felt him collapse on top of her.  He was just the first of many to coat her with his blood as she made her way back to her bike, and her shotguns.      

“I knew I’d get you to chase after me.”  Arya was pulled out of her memories, hearing Bronn’s raspy voice.  

He still hadn’t turned around and Arya was thankful for it.  She knew that her face was extremely easy to read, it’s part of what required her to learn how to fight.  And then once she got used to the rush of bringing people larger than her down, she found she rather liked it.  

He turned around to face her, his lips curled into a shit-eating grin.  She found herself start to smile over it, but worked to contain it.  “Why are you here?  My sister alright?”  

“As far as I know, Golden Snatch is great.  Snuggled up to her half-dead husband.”  Bronn crossed his arms, sighing as if bored with the topic.  

Arya crossed her arms to mirror him, allowing her biceps to bulge.  Arya was a petite woman, not a tree like her sister.  And her hair was a ratty brown, not a shimmering auburn like her sister either.  But Arya was  _ cut _ .  And she played that to her advantage.  For a brief second, she wondered why she felt the need to play anything to her advantage.  Sure the man flirted with her on the boat.  And sure with the surge of endorphins and adrenaline in the moment she forgot about the lines in his face and considered a quick ride in the engine room.  But that was bloodlust, the need to come after an ass-kicking.  She knew that.  Gendry got to feel the effects of that more than a few times after she’d flown off the handle at someone.  “Then what brings you here?”  

He let out a theatrical belch and smiled wide, “Can’t a guy just go to a bar for a drink?”  

She looked at the car keys in her hand and the Mustang parked a few feet away.  She didn’t know for sure that is what he drove, but she had a feeling.  She tilted her head and pressed her lips together mockingly, “Not at a biker-bar.  Besides, you’re another level.”  

“Oh?”  He cocked an eyebrow at her, never ceasing his filthy grin.  

She nodded, “You’re not a barroom brawl.  You’re a... a... _ what we did.” _  She was referring to the bodies and the blood, all the murder and gore.  “Guys like you don’t come around places like this, unless someone paid you to.”  

“Oo, she’s got brains too.”  Bronn acted as if he was talking to someone else, continuing to mock.  “Too bad she’s wrong.”  And then he turned his attention back to her, “But you’re not just a sweet set of tits hidden under that loose shirt.  What are you a C?  Bit big for a petite little thing like you.”  

Arya blinked once and then laughter burst through her pursed lips against her will.  She had a firm resolve to find out what this man was doing in her neck of the woods, taking her work seriously.  And he cut through all of it with his crass humor and his audacity to talk to her with such assumption.  She couldn’t stop herself as she played back, “Oh you noticed those did you?”  

“How could I not?  They definitely caught my eye on the boat.”  He rubbed at the facial hair on his chin, his smile never breaking, “Thought I’d take myself another look.   _ Without all the red. _ ”  

Blood.  He was referring to the blood she was caked in from head to toe.  She held back an amused expression at hearing how enticing her tits were covered in blood and soot from when they set the boat on fire.  She shot back, “Come here trying to fuck them?”

He laughed, “Well, I can’t say that I wouldn’t be open to the opportunity.  But I got a feeling your welder-man is gonna be all over them tonight.”  

Arya’s eyes grew wide.  She instantly felt threat and danger as she considered the idea of someone watching and following her.  She knew that her sister was into that sort of thing, with the right man.  But Arya did not like the idea of someone checking up on her when she couldn’t do the same back.  Her lips got tight and her eyebrows furrowed as her voice hardened, “Why would you assume he’s a welder?”  

Bronn’s hands raised, open palm, a sign of entreat, “I notice things.  That’s all.  Which in my line of work, I need to.  Scruffy Mop doesn’t hide what he does.  His arms are bulky like all laborers, he’s got a heavy canvas coat shoved up against the corner of the booth you were sitting in, and to top it off he has a welder’s mask hanging off the front of his bike.  The bike has a bull decal on it, like the tattoo of a bull he has on his right arm.”  

Arya blinked at him.  And then laughed again.  That was the second time he did that to her.  Everything he said made perfect sense, and took all the creepy out of the situation.  Though to be honest, if it turned out he was a creeper, Arya would have just beat his ass.  Or try to.  For a second, Arya remembered the way he danced around the deck, leaving bodies behind him, and she wondered if she could take him.  There were times that she overpowered Gen in the sack, welder’s arms and all.  But this man was  _ skilled.   _

She pulled herself out of the thought and looked back at him, “You’re right.  I’m gonna fuck him.  Sorry if that’s why you came by.”

“Eh, some other time.”  He shrugged and turned away from her.  

She felt irritation play across her face.   _ What other time? _  She raised her voice as he walked towards the Mustang, “What makes you think there will be a next time?”  

He turned and grinned at her as he opened his car door, “I just found me a new bar.”  

She stood speechless as he turned the key in the ignition.  As he pulled away she started laughing at the strange encounter.  She felt two arms wrap around her torso and she looked down, recognizing them to be Gendry.  He grabbed her earlobe with his teeth and sucked before he said, “You done getting a ‘change of scenery’ yet?”  

Arya felt wetness pool in her pants as she kept laughing.  “Fuck me now before I change my mind.”        


	2. People Our Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He chuckled, “All I need is one weak moment.”

Arya was wiping out the thirtieth glass mug and setting it on the shelf when Jaqs came around the bar with a couple of cases of beer.  Arya would be lying if she said that she never checked him out.  He definitely garnered attention with his strong build, smoldering eyes, and the single white streak amid a body of ruddy red-brown hair that he wore long past his shoulders.  His name was Jaqen H’ghar and he owned Wolfswood.  

The tavern had become Arya’s home.  As soon as she turned eighteen, she hopped on her bike and took off.  She reasoned that she wasn’t running away as she was legally an adult at the time, and therefore allowed a new freedom to see the world and do as she felt was right for herself.  In truth, she didn’t want her older sister, Sansa, to take care of her anymore.  Not that she couldn’t, but Arya had seen the toll raising her and her siblings had been on her big sister and wanted to stop contributing to that as soon as possible.  So once Arya finished boarding school, she hit the road.  At first Sansa was upset, told her not to go, that she wasn’t a burden.  And then she suddenly let it go.  Arya didn’t know if it was because Sansa understood that she had become an adult and wanted to spread her wings.  Or if it was that she was hurt by Arya’s leaving.  

They didn’t talk much after that for a few months.  Arya didn’t feel like it was malicious, as Sansa seemed preoccupied and Arya was busy exploring the world.  Or at least that was the plan.  Arya made it just out of the city, making friends and crashing on their couches.  Only a few times did things stop being friendly, causing her to defend herself from some dumb male who developed expectations.  

And then one night, she found Wolfswood, and Jaqs.  He served her alcohol, knowing she was underage and not seeming to care.  So she came back.  At first she went there only because it was a place that allowed her to drink with friends.  And then as she became a regular fixture, she came for the other regulars.  It wasn’t until the night that she met Gendry that Jaqs actually spoke more than two words to her.  

Arya had been eyeing Gendry at the other end of the bar.  She wouldn’t say that she was nervous per se, but for whatever reason, that night she wasn’t as brazen in making the first move.  It was not that she was nervous about a casual encounter, as she had done so before numerous times.  There was something about his smile that made her hesitate, trying to decide how far to dip her toes in the pool.  

A girl next to her in a loose hippy dress with leather vest giggled, “You thinking about how you’re gonna make a move?”  

Arya instantly looked down at the counter and laughed, embarrassed by her obvious gawking.  “Nah, he thinks his shit don’t stink.  I aint into it.”  

When she looked up, it was Jaqen that was looking back at her.  He threw the towel over his shoulder and rested his palms on the bar as he leaned in, “Give him a name, and he will do the rest.”  

Arya blinked back at him, “What?”  

Jaqen pulled back from the counter and poured another drink as he clarified.  “He’s looking at you as much as you are him.  If you just gave him a name--doesn’t have to be yours, he’d go with you before anyone else.”  

Arya blinked again, her mouth hanging open slightly.  Jaqen smirked as he reached by her, handing the glass to the customer behind her.  He was completely right, no sooner did Arya tell Gendry her name than all the other women around him seemed to dissolve away.  As she allowed Gendry to lead her away that night, she looked up at Jaqen in acknowledgement.  He smiled back nodding his head and that was the beginning of their relationship.  

That was then, however, and now Arya was laboring over a stack of glass mugs.  “Jaqs, I’ve cleaned like thirty of these, can I be done now?”  Arya whined.  

He approached her slowly, arms crossed over his chest.  He pulled one side of his mouth up, thinking.  “Was it thirty?  Or _ like _ thirty?”   

“Thirty-one.”  Arya said firmly, folding her arms to mirror his, towel still in hand.  

He nodded his head, “Okay.  You can be done.”  

She tossed the towel on the countertop and pushed her luck, “Can I serve tonight?”

Jaqen sighed, “Don’t you want to be with your friends?”  

Arya shook her head.  “I was on mug duty, hoping you would let me serve.  How else am I gonna learn if you don’t let me behind the counter?”

“Fine.”  Jaqen rolled his eyes and tossed her an apron.  

She laughed and turned, facing the customers.  The first couple of hours were slow, as Wolfswood was just starting to wake with activity.  It was good to try serving when things were slow.  Though Arya didn’t need to practice much, as people at Wolfswood only drank beer and straight alcohol.  Sometimes things got as fancy as a Car-Bomb, but no Long Island Ice Teas or Martinis.  

As the bar filled up, and the noise escalated, Jaqen split the customers with her.  She took the left side and he took the right, glancing over every now and then to make sure she wasn’t floundering.  Gendry came to the counter with his trademark smirk and sing-song voice, “Aaaaarrryyyyaaa.”

She grinned back at him.  He picked up the glass she set on the counter and taunted her with it playfully, “Come out, come out, to play.”  

She chuckled at his attempt to be cute and clever with an old movie reference, “Shut up, and go drink yourself stupid.”  

He made a mock pouty-face.  “Aw, please!  Trustfund kids don’t need jobs.  You shouldn’t be slinging beer.”  

Anger flashed through her, as her arms flexed and her eyebrows creased.  She had told him in the confidence of an intimate night that she was living off of her trust fund.  People who came to Wolfswood probably didn’t even know what a trust fund was, their way of life being so different from how she was raised.  She didn’t want to feel separate from them, and worried that if her secret was found out she would be.  The feeling of betrayal surging through her made her speak through clenched teeth, “Get the fuck out of here.” 

Gendry smiled as he scrunched his face in confusion, “What?  I’m just telling ya, you’re doing this whole rich bitch thing wrong.”  

Arya was in no mood for his attempt at humor.  She climbed up on the bottom shelf under the bar and reached across, grabbing Gendry by the front of his shirt and pulling him over the counter top.  She exerted herself more than she cared to admit, as his muscle mass definitely made him heavier than he looked.  She got nose to nose with him and through squinted eyes asked, “Do you know why I fuck your face?”  

His drunken smile found hope in her mention of sex, “Because I’m good at it?”  

“No.  It’s because your mouth never closes.”  She let go of him and gave him a hard shove away from the bar.  He stumbled back, looking hurt and confused.  

Arya stepped down off the shelf and gave Jaqen a sideways glance.  He stood at the end, arms crossed, watching the display.  He said nothing, however, as he uncrossed his arms, pulled the towel off his shoulder and wiped up a mess on his end.  Arya took her own towel and wiped at the beer that had wet the front of her ripped up jeans.  She was just giving up, realizing it was futile when she heard, “So trust fund, yeah?”  

Arya looked up quickly, seeing Bronn perched on one end of the bar, drinking her with his eyes, “I think you got some on your shirt too, you should take it off.”  

“Does that actually work on people?”  Arya gave him an annoyed look.  

He chuckled, “All I need is one weak moment.”  

Arya rolled her eyes at him and poured another drink.  Bronn had been coming by Wolfswood at least once a week for the past few weeks and pestering her with his slick come-ons.  Seeing Bronn made her think of the last conversation she had had with Sansa.  Her sister was pissy with him for not taking a job and Arya couldn’t figure out why that would be such a big deal.  Bronn, love him or hate him, had helped save Baelish’s life.  Arya thought Sansa would have been kissing Bronn’s feet in gratitude with the way she was so over the moon for Baelish.  

In fact, it was seeing her sister so completely ruined by love that made Arya herself ride off after Baelish’s kidnappers, half-cocked without any sort of plan.  She hadn’t had the luxury of realizing that it was reckless, only that her sister was a puddle on the pavement and she needed to fix it.  

When she got there and was heavily outnumbered, she was thankful that this deadly stranger made an appearance, keeping her alive by doing so.  Jon, her cousin, hadn’t come till it would have been too late.  Jon ran past, focusing forward.  She figured he was unable to see her underneath the hulking form that had pinned her down as she slashed furiously at it.  Though for a brief second, she wondered if he did see her, whether or not he would have stopped.  He looked so focused and intent on moving toward his target, that she doubted he saw anything else.  

Arya poured Bronn a drink and set it down in front of him, turning all of her attention back to the present.  “My sister’s pissed at you.”  

“Probably.”  Bronn smiled as he took a sip.  

“Sansa doesn’t tell me her business.  But she let slip that you didn’t take a job.”  Arya tucked the end of the bar towel in her pocket.  “Thought that’s what you did.  Take jobs, get paid.”  

The way he licked the foam off his lip was obscene.  “Most of the time.”  

“So, why didn’t you take the job?”  Arya leaned on the counter, maintaining eye contact.  

He shifted his glass around, playing with the water ring, “Why is a trust fund kid trying to learn how to bartend?”  

“You’re avoiding the question.”  Her lips pursed.  

He smiled, though it didn’t touch his eyes.  “No.  I’m asking a question.”  

“Why do you care?”  She shrugged her shoulders.  

“Why do you?”  He returned.  

Arya huffed, “Fine, whatever.  It’s not exactly a secret.  I wanna buy Wolfswood someday.  Can’t own a place I don’t know how to run.”  

There was a brief pause and then he smiled wide, “Not everyone your age would have the wisdom to know that, or the willingness to get their hands dirty.”  

Arya’s mind flashed to the day she was covered in blood.  She wondered if his mind took him there too because his smile changed from appreciative to pornographic.  After a moment, he continued to answer her question.  “I don’t discuss clients.  But, because Golden Snatch blabbed to you that I didn’t take a job, I will admit that I was offered one.  I didn’t take it because my lovely little Punky Brewster, I have standards.”  

“What the fuck does that mean?”  She exclaimed.  

“Punky Brewster was a show--”  He started before she cut in.  

“Yeah I figured it was some obsolete reference to something, I am asking what you mean by you ‘have standards’--you’re a fucking--”  She looked around quickly before lowering her voice to a whisper, “ _ hitman! _ ”  

“It means,”  He sighed and waved his hand in the air, “that there are somethings that even  _ I  _ won’t do.”  

Arya stood silent, absorbing what he said.  She couldn’t image what he would not do and more so what her sister could possibly ask that would fit that bill, “Some  _ things _ , huh?”  

“Well some people too, but that’s not a very large amount to be frank.”  He took another drink.  

She laughed, “I figured.”  

“So, who would you be buying this bar from then?  And, can you even buy a bar if you’re not technically allowed to drink in it yet?”  Bronn asked, smiling through a skeptical face.  

Arya found herself leaning over the counter more than she meant to.  And though she found herself rolling her eyes at him more than not, perhaps it was the interest he took in her, but something made her want to answer him.  “Jaqs--you’ve been in here enough to know who I’m talking about.”  

“Indeed.”  Bronn took another large swallow as he looked past her at the white stripe in the bartender’s hair.  “Interesting fellow, your ‘Jaqs.’  I don’t think this has always been his job.”  

Her eyes widened and her head lifted in attention, remembering that Bronn was a man who noticed things, “What do you mean?”  

Bronn shook his head smiling and said, “People  _ our  _ age, are old enough to have lived the world, and he has.  That’s all I’m saying.”  

Arya would have explored that further if she wasn’t so automatically offended by:  _ people our age _ .  Arya never really got off on the whole older man thing, she didn’t have any daddy issues and thought it was fucked up when people did.  It was part of what boggled her mind about Sansa and Baelish.  But she shrugged it off eventually saying “to each their own.”  Bronn noting their age difference just then irritated her though.  “So why are you hanging around a nineteen year old?  Got some pedo-things to work out?”  

He chuckled, almost spitting out his drink.  With a theatrical gulp, he leaned in and motioned for her to lean in as well.  Reluctantly, she did.  His voice was silky smooth, but his words were anything but, “You are young.  And you’ve got a small frame to ya, that’s for sure.  But you’re ripe and ready.  There is nothing on you that isn’t all  _ woman. _ ”  

Arya felt her breath catch in her mouth at the way he said,  _ woman. _  She remained silent and still, looking back into his eyes.  He could tell he had her attention, so he continued, “I ‘hang around’ you because I think you’re sexy as fuck, and until we do just that, I’m enjoying the view.”  

Arya had to remind herself to close her mouth.  She had never been talked to like that before.  Sure, she’d had some guys say naughty things to her in the sack, and some morons had cat-called her before.  But this was different.  This was smooth.  This was  _ experience.   _

She believed him when he told her that he wanted her, and not for any other reason than a man wanting to fuck a woman.  She believed he could make her pant as his trained tongue ran all around her clit.  She felt herself gush with wetness and wanted to rub her thighs together, but didn’t dare.  She knew her nipples were poking through her shirt and she didn’t care.  Bronn didn’t look down at them as he held her gaze, but she knew he noticed too.  

“Hey!  Are you serving?  Or not?!”  Jaqen called from the other end of the bar.  

Bronn never took his eyes off of hers, “What’s it going to be?  Is tonight the night?”  

She blinked, realizing that he never asked if she would fuck him, because he knew she would before she did.  It was just a matter of when.  Jaqen called out to her again and she shook her head, “I’m working.”  

Bronn stood up with a grin and set the empty glass on the counter, “Glad to know that’s the only reason.”  

Arya watched him turn to walk away and she caught a glimpse of a bulge in his pants and ached just below her bellybutton in response.  She silently cursed herself.    


	3. Kindred Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck you! She thought as she tried to turn around and see the face of the man who captured her.

The mattress was soft and cool under her clenched fists and bent knees, a contrast to the sweaty heat of his palms gripping her shoulders and the warmth he returned to her with each thrust of his rigid cock.  Arya bit her lip through her grin as she braced herself on all fours for Gendry’s welcome assault on her insides.  

Arya always needed some time to adjust to Gendry’s girth, but once she had, she craved force from him.  They weren’t an old married couple and Arya wasn’t going to let him fuck her like one.  

Goddamn he felt good.  She usually had to touch herself to get off with men, but she didn’t have to with Gendry.  While he was possibly not the most skilled of partners, he had such a large cock that it filled her completely and put added pressure on the other side of her bundle of nerves.  Only his dick would hit the spot she couldn’t reach herself, her G-spot.  His rhythm could at times be clumsy, especially after a night of drinking, but when he hit it, she saw stars.  

He slid one hand off of her shoulder and down her back, massaging as he went down to her ass.  He grabbed a handful, squeezing it hard as he pulled her back onto him.  A rogue moan escaped her lips as he slid against that special spot inside of her.  It wasn’t long before neither of them could stifle their moans any longer.  She trembled around him as he surged inside of her a final time.

His hulking form slumped over her in exhaustion and she laughed out loud at his dramatic collapse and then strained under the weight of him.  “Fuck, Gen.  You weigh a ton.”  

“Get stronger, _Muscles._ ”  She felt his mouth grin against her shoulder as he spoke.  She blew out an exaggerated breath at hearing his nickname for her.  

He pushed up off of her a little, then took both hands and ran his fingers into her hair from the base of her neck and held her gently in place as he leaned over and kissed and bit the back of her neck.  She shuddered at the tickling sensation and smiled wide.  Gendry let go of his grip and pulled himself up entirely, slowly backing out of her.  Arya remained on all fours for a moment as she stretched her back.  

“Mm, that’s a fucking picture for a calendar.”  Gendry lit a cigarette, letting it hang from his mouth as he stood stark naked, staring at her.  

Arya slowly backed off the bed, allowing him the view a little longer and then turned and walked towards him.  She slid her palm up his abs and in between his pecs, dipping in the dent of his clavicle.  He closed his eyes and let a little sigh escape at the intimate touch.  She continued, running her hand up the side of his neck and over his jaw to rest against his cheek.  Arya grinned at the way he blew smoke out his nostrils, unwilling to move away from her touch.  It was only when her hand left his cheek to pluck the cigarette from his mouth that he opened his eyes.  Realizing what she had just done, Gendry narrowed his eyes, peeved.

Arya took a long drag and then held it out to him, batting her eyelashes,  “Will you finish this for me?”  

Gendry looked at her flirty face and grabbed her hips, crushing her to him.  Arya looked startled for a moment, surprised by his sudden gesture.  She looked up at him and watched as he smiled down at her.  He slowly opened his mouth and she brought her hand up and gently placed it back where she got it.  He clamped his lips down on the filter and inhaled as he let go of her hips.  Arya stared back for a second before she regained her composure.  She rolled her eyes at him and turned away.  A loud crack sounded as Gendry smacked her ass.  She turned around and swung at him as hard as she could in his bicep.  

“Ow, fuck!”  He laughed and held his arm.  

She pursed her lips as she turned away, “Serves you right.”  

He followed behind her, “You like it.”  

Arya hid a smirk that confessed just how much she did.  She turned on the water to the shower as he lifted the toilet seat.  She climbed in and closed her eyes, allowing the water ran over her greasy mop.  She heard the toilet flush and then Gendry joined her, reaching over her head, to pull the shampoo down.  He winced slightly as he did and Arya laughed, “Are you _hurt_?”  

“You pack a good punch for a chick,” Gendry admitted with a smile as he squirted some shampoo into his palm and handed her the bottle.  She took some and put it back, working up a lather for her hair as she watched him rub the soap suds all over his rippling muscles.  The first few times they had showered together, Arya was so turned on by the process that they ended up in the bedroom again.  

As Arya raised her arms, Gendry pointed at her armpits and laughed, “Time for a shave Grizzley Adams.”  

Arya looked down at the stubble growing and sighed, accepting the razor he handed her.  She caught sight of a dark purple bruise forming above the tattoo of the bull that Gendry had done years ago.  As she shaved under her armpits, she laughed, “At least I don’t bruise like a bitch.”

Gendry looked down and smiled, “Oh well, something to remember you by.”  

Arya picked her head up, “Going somewhere?”  

“Job.”  Gendry gestured for her to move aside so that he could rinse off in the water.  

Arya found herself feeling a little sad at the idea that he wouldn’t be around.  Gendry had proven to be a solid friend.  Sure, he pissed her off from time to time, but at the end of the day, he always seemed to come through.    

He continued to explain, “This one’s about four weeks, eight hundred miles away.”  

“Oh.”  Arya tried to hide the frown from forming, and not knowing what else to say, “Well, I hope it pays good.”  

Gendry chuckled and pulled her into a wet, soapy embrace.  She accepted his affection, not that she would have any choice if she didn’t want to; his arms were an immovable force.  He crushed her to him with one arm and let the other slide down to her ass, grabbing a large handful.  She looked up at him and his mouth came down on hers.  His kiss was deep and passionate.  A soft moan died in her throat at the feeling of him so completely possessing her.  Her insides wobbled as she felt herself lose control to him in that moment.  

He pulled up from her lips and looked down at her with a shit-eating grin and a wink, “Don’t worry, Muscles.  I’ll fuck you when I get back.”

She blinked back up at him for a second, regaining her senses.  Her wits returned to her, “And to think, some friends just give hugs.”  

“Well, we’re better friends than that.”  Gendry laughed as he got out of the shower and took the last towel off the shelf to dry off.  

Arya turned off the water and stood dripping in the cold air waiting for the towel.  Gendry took his time, with a lazy smile.  Arya shivered and ground her teeth impatiently, “ _Gen_.”   

He chuckled, “Calm your tits.”  

Arya bawled her fists at her sides, “Don’t you have a job to get to?”  

Gendry laughed and threw the towel at her as he walked out of the bathroom.  Arya was still drying off and warming up as he walked back in fully clothed.  She had the towel wrapped around her completely and was pulling wet strands of hair behind her ears when he approached her.  She heard the leather of his coat creak as he wrapped his arms around her and spoke above her head, “There.  You’ve been hugged.”  

Arya couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as she spoke into the zipper of his breast pocket, “Stay out of trouble.”  

Gendry pulled away and laughed, “I’ll give you a call to come bail me out.”  

Arya rolled her eyes as she watched him walk away.  He stopped at the door and shrugged his shoulders, “What are friends for, right?”  

Arya chuckled, “See ya.”  

A couple of weeks passed and Arya continued on with life, refusing to be upset by the absence of her friend.  It wasn’t the first time that Gendry had to leave for work, so she reminded herself that it wasn’t a big deal.  She did miss him at Wolfswood though.  She spent most nights in a booth drinking and smoking with their little crowd, but it was always more fun with him there.  

Luckily, Jaqs was letting her work more, and that definitely kept her occupied. One night, Arya robotically poured another mug of beer and handed it over the counter to a faceless customer,  as she had most nights.  Though on this night, she heard a crash as the customer gripped the mug, a fight had broken out.  

Fights were not uncommon at Wolfswood and usually resolved themselves.  When they didn’t, Jaqs always stepped in and barred both offending parties.  That was usually enough to shut everyone up for a while and keep the peace.  Wolfswood Tavern was one of the few places that turned a blind eye to people who tried to keep away from the attentions of the law.  No one wanted to lose the sanctity that it provided.  

But this fight was different somehow, people weren’t calming down.  Arya saw the white streak of Jaqs’ hair mixed in the pulsing crowd of individual bodies slugging and swinging at each other.  Spit flew as knuckles made contact with faces and bruises formed as legs kicked at shins and guts softened like dough under strong fists.  Blood poured as glasses broke and swiped across plump skin and Arya found herself flying over the counter, diving into the crowd.  It was unplanned and completely reactive.  

She yelled at people to, “SEPARATE!”  Grabbing collars and barking in their faces, “GET OUT!”  She screamed, “BACK THE FUCK OFF!”

She felt a large fist make contact with her ribs and she sucked in air at the shock-wave of pain.  Arya was no stranger to the pain of a fight and she growled as she connected her own fist with the nearest body she could find.  She had jumped in without a plan, and wasn’t much closer to one as she hit and kicked at anything that came near her.  She carried on that way for awhile.  Right up until a table leg caught her in the cheek, slicing it open.  Blood rolled down her jaw, thick and warm.  She touched her hand to it as she looked at the fat biker with scraggly hair who looked back at her, eyes wide in surprise that it was her face he hit.  She looked at the blood that washed over her hand, and smiled at him, “You’re fucked, now.”  

She propelled herself forward, jumping onto him and pulling him down on the ground.  She tangled her fingers in his hair as she clenched her fists around his skull and forced his face down.  Arya’s knees pushed into his meaty shoulder blades as she hit his head off of the wood floor.  She had only meant to do it a couple of times but the smell of blood finally hit her and something inside of her snapped, triggered to the memory of the day that she had to fight for her life, floating on a boat in a secluded harbor.  

Arya didn’t notice the man stop struggling as she repeatedly bashed his head, painting the wood with his blood.  She could not hear anything over the sound of her own roar, so she did not hear someone approaching her from behind.  She was so ensconced in her own primal need to dominate and kill that she barely felt two strong arms wrap around her middle.  

She didn’t notice until she was lifted her off of the man, her own arms and legs flailed wildly to murder anything it could reach.  A familiar voice rumbled in her ear, “We need to get you out of here.”  

 _Fuck you!_  She thought as she tried to turn around and see the face of the man who captured her.  She kicked her leg back and caught him in the shin.  He groaned in pain, “Oof!”  

She threw her elbow back but he caught it and folded her arms in close to her abdomen as he clamped his around hers.  She tried to throw her head back to catch him in the nose, but she was unable to make contact with anything.  His mouth moved against her shoulder, “Butt your head as much as you want, I’ve tucked mine down so you can’t reach.  But go ahead and give yourself some whiplash.”  

Arya still squirmed in his arms as he carried her out of the jungle of bodies fighting, but she fought less and less.  She told herself that it was to save her energy to strike, but she knew it was because she was recognizing that voice:  Bronn.  

He pulled her into Jaqs’ back office and tossed her down in the old wooden office chair.  She instantly got up flying for the door and he batted her back and placed her in the chair again.  Arya looked up at him and spat, “What’s your fucking problem?”  

Bronn crossed his arms as he stood in front of the door, “You need a patch-up.”  

“What?”  Arya scrunched her face in confusion and then yelped at the pain that caused.  

“Exactly.”  Bronn walked over to her.  “You forgot who you were out there, and met a whole other you.”  

“What the fuck?”  Arya started to feel the weight of her exhaustion as she sunk back in her chair, accepting that he wouldn’t let her leave the room, and also that she wasn’t eager enough to get back out there to fight him.  

Bronn walked over to the fridge Jaqs kept in his office and pulled out a cold can of beer and cracked it open, taking a long swig.  “You met another side of yourself out on that boat, and it came to visit tonight.”  

Arya wanted to ask what he meant, feign ignorance again, but he was making sense to her.  She had felt as though she were another person on that boat and had worked in the weeks since to find her old self again.  Tonight, she got a taste of the person she was bathed in blood.  At her silence, Bronn took two more beers out of the fridge and held them in one hand as he drank with the other.  

He walked up to her and handed her a one.  She opened it and drank slowly, fully feeling the pain in her cheek.  He handed her the other can and she looked up at him in question.  “I don’t have an ice pack, or a bag of peas, so hold that to your ribs.”  

“My ribs?”  She asked.  

He nodded, “Yes, you took a good hit to them, left side.  You don’t feel that?”  

Arya set the can against her side and sucked in air between her teeth, “I’m starting to.”  

Bronn chuckled as he pulled another chair up close to her, opening his knees to scootch up close to the side of her chair.  Arya looked over at him inching closer, and before she could say anything he spoke, “Don’t get your naughty little panties in a twist, you need stitches and I’m good at sewing.”    

“Bullshit.”  Arya doubted.  

He pulled a small case out of his pocket, she couldn’t see what all was in it, but noticed a small spool of thread and a needle.  She laughed when she saw it, that being the last thing she would ever expect to see him holding.  He pulled a little travel bottle of Jack Daniels out of his other pocket and poured some over the spool and then told her to tilt her face.  She knew what was coming and her jaw tightened as she complied.  He poured the rest of the bottle over her wound.  

Arya dented the beer can in her hand with her fingers in response to the burning on her cheek.  He worked quickly, hovering the needle over the flame of his lighter before threading it.  “Take another drink before I start.”  

Arya complied.  She wanted another drink anyway, she told herself.  He pushed the thumb and middle finger of one hand on either side of the laceration, as he leaned over her, tilting her head into the light.  He pierced the skin and Arya bit her lip to stifle the pinching pain.  She spoke uncomfortably, “I bet you do this to all the girls.”  

He chuckled, “Just a few.”  

Arya remained silent as he worked, not having a come back to throw at him.  

He kept his focus on her cheek as he spoke, “I haven’t seen your welder-man around lately, trouble in paradise?”  

Arya laughed and he tugged her head still.  She spoke cynically, “So you came sniffing around, thinking to keep me warm at night?”  

He smiled as he tugged at the thread, “I sniff around you even when he is here.  That doesn’t make a difference to me.”  

“Then why are you here right now?”  Arya asked, not moving but allowing her eyes to travel his weathered face.

”Because, you and me, we’re kindred spirits, us -- both like to get bloodier than we ought to.”  His smile hovered above her before he brought his face down towards hers.  

For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but was surprised to find that he was merely biting the thread to break it.  Arya felt disappointment sink in her stomach as he started to pull away.  Impulsively, she set her drink on the desk and reached up, hooking her arm around his neck and pulled him to her lips.  

She didn’t know what she expected, but the way he met her was definitely not it.  He sighed into her lips, and she wondered if he was bored with her reckless gesture, a tired old man.  As she was about to pull away, his hand grasped her jaw on the side of her face that was unmarked.  She felt him deepen the kiss, pushing past her lips, sliding his tongue over hers.  His teeth gently grazed her bottom lip, and he sucked it as he pulled away.  She blinked her eyes open to him as his words poured over her, “Hopefully, next time, your face won’t be too fucked up to enjoy it.”  

She wanted to tell him that she did very much enjoy it, but suddenly felt any ability she had to speak drain out of her as she felt so extremely out of her depth under his gaze.  

He read her face and chuckled as he stood up, “Have I rendered ya speechless?”  

Arya blinked and then scowled back at him as he walked away from her.  She was opening her mouth to speak when he reached the doorway and called over his shoulder, “It’s okay, I can think of better things to use that pretty mouth for.”  

“Fuck you!”  Arya hollered back, he was already through the door and offered no come back.  When she stood and walked to the doorway and looked out, he had gone.  


	4. In Your Sights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did that fucker just buy me a slushie, and then accuse me of daddy-kink?

Arya was bent over, stacking crates out back behind Wolfswood Tavern.  Her arms strained as she lifted and she let out a couple of accidental grunts of exertion.  She felt someone approaching and instantly slid her hand down her leg towards her nearest knife.  Sometimes patrons got the wrong idea, and seeing a petite little thing like Arya all alone behind the bar seemed like a prime opportunity for them to get out of hand.  

Her fingertips had just touched the handle when she heard his voice, “Don’t bother, I was just admiring the view.”

_Bronn,_ Arya sighed.  She slowly stood up and turned to face the seasoned hitman.  “And now it’s gone.”  

Bronn crossed his arms over his chest and looked her up and down as he smirked, “No, it’s not.”  

Arya scowled, “Listen, _old man_ , I don’t know how much clearer I can be.   _Not. Interested.”_

Bronn maintained his stance, grinning.  His raised his eyebrows at her in doubt.

“Seriously!”  Arya took a step towards him, her fist bawled, “Would you like me to draw you a map to where you can fuck off to?”  

Bronn flashed her a toothy grin, “Only if you’ll ‘fuck off’ with me.”

Arya remembered him kissing her and running off afterward.  She huffed and looked away as she said, “You had no problem getting the fuck out of Dodge before.”

Bronn laughed and took a step forward, “You raw about that kiss?”  

“What kiss?”  Arya shot back, and was immediately embarrassed that she said it.  The kiss was not what she expected.  And it didn’t end how she would have liked.  But trying to pretend that she had forgotten it was childish.  

He laughed at her, “Aww, you are.  It’s nice to know I’m finally in your sights.”  

“My sights?  What the hell?”  Arya scrunched her face in annoyance, “Does _anyone_ know what you’re talking about, _ever?_ ”  

Bronn started to turn away, “Come on, Punky.  I’ve got a present for you.”  

“A present?”  Arya felt more confused by the moment.  He kept walking away and she knew the only way she’d get any answers would be to follow him.  “Fine, whatever.”  She stomped after him.  

He stopped at a black Mustang with a sandy gold stripe down the center of it.  Arya had seen his car before, but not up close.  She almost forgot he was beside her as she took a walk around it, checking it over.  Cobra emblem on the grill, snake-eye headlights, sexy rims, and custom spoiler, were just a few of the highlights to the vehicle.  Arya knew that Bronn had been watching her proudly and she decided to knock him down a peg, “It’s a bit flashy, don’t ya think?”  

Bronn chuckled, “It gets me to the grocery store.  I take it Mustangs--sorry, fast cars, aren’t your thing?”

Arya realized he thought she didn’t appreciate it because she didn’t know anything about cars, instead of just that she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her liking his car.  She shook her head back at him, “No, I like Mustangs, and your GT-500 is sweet.  It’s just not my favorite.”

His head picked up, “Oh?  And what is?”

“The Fastback.”  Arya answered quickly, watching for surprise on his face.  

If he was surprised, he did well to hide it as he asked, “The sixty-eight?”  

“No, sixty-five,” Arya answered as she looked at the rims again.  Without meaning to, she spoke more to herself than anyone else, “My father had one.”  

“Well then it’s lucky that neither of mine are the sixty-five.”  Bronn said as he opened his door.  

“What?”  Arya looked up at him, refusing to fall into memories of her father driving her around when she was little.  

“As you may have guessed, I collect Mustangs.  I have two Fastbacks at present, and neither of them are the ones your Daddy drove you around in to go pick up ice cream and hit a matinee.”  Bronn waved his hands in the air as he explained, “I’m old enough to be your father, but I’m not him.”  

“I never said you were!”  Arya growled back him.  What the fuck was he on about?  She felt her irritation level growing higher and higher as she cracked her knuckles.  

Bronn noticed the gesture and chuckled, “Good.  I don’t need you working out any daddy issues on me.”  He had turned to reach into his car, but then stopped himself and smiled back at her, “On second thought, I’ll take you to a baseball game and call ya ‘Sport’ if you’ll eat my corndog.”

He waggled his eyebrows and Arya saw red, “Fuck off!”  

Bronn reached into his car as he answered, “I told you, I will, _with you_.  But first, I got you a present.”

“I don’t want anything from you.  Ever.”  Arya gritted through her teeth.  

“Yep.  Still raw about that kiss.”  Bronn looked down at the ground.  “Maybe this gift will help,” he pulled a styrofoam soft drink cup out of his car and handed it to her.  

“What the fuck is this?”  Arya reluctantly took the cup from his hand and inspected it, she could see the color blue through the lid.  

“It’s a slushie.”  Bronn crossed his arms over his chest again, proudly.  “You’ll need it for the carnival.”  

“Carnival?”  Arya furrowed her brow in question.  It felt like every time the man spoke, he just confused her more.  

He gestured for her to get in the passenger side, “I’m taking you to a carnival.”  

She stood still, not moving.  A million things ran through her head: _Did that fucker just buy me a slushie, and then accuse me of daddy-kink?  A fucking carnival?  His car really is hot.  Is he trying to pick me up right now?  He blew me off after that kiss, making me feel like a fucking idiot.  Fuck him, I’m not going anywhere._         

Bronn sighed and then walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door for her, “What’s the matter?  Can’t handle riding in this much horse-power?”  

Arya cracked her neck as she smiled and shot back, “I straddle that much horse-power between my thighs _daily_ , but nice try.”

“Impossible-- I don’t come here daily.”  Bronn winked back.  “Come on, hop in.  Carnivals are fun, and I promise I’ll have ya back before the police show up to bag and tag the body.”

_What?!_ Alarm bells rang in Arya’s head.  She told herself to play it cool, channel Sansa; she was always on point, never batted an eyelash.  Arya was slowly walking towards the passenger door before she realized what she was doing and said, “You’re the one who bags the bodies.  Not the police.”  

“Apparently not.”  His smile drew her further towards him.  She gave him a curious face as she stood in the open door and he waved his finger up and down at her as he finished, “I’ve been trying to bag that body, and so far no such luck.”

“Ha.  Ha.”  Arya rolled her eyes as she sat down.  It wasn’t until the door clicked shut that she realized, _I just climbed into a hitman’s car, and no one knows where I am or who I’m with.  Fuck._ Arya instantly checked for her knives, and pulled her phone out.  

She had just pulled up Sansa’s name when Bronn sat beside her.  He looked over at her, annoyance flashing across his face.  She felt the hair on her body stand on end, expecting this to be the moment where he takes her phone away.  Arya had sized him up before and decided that she could easily take him.  But after seeing him in action, she had second thoughts.  The fight would have been anything but fair, and they would both be lucky to come out alive.  She decided to posture, “Problem?”  

The low rumble of the engine sounded and Bronn looked at his hands on the steering wheel, “Am I boring you that much?”  

Arya froze, dumbstruck.  Was he showing a tinge of insecurity?  She smirked as she replied, “I’m just massaging my sister so that she knows who I’m with, in case I’m never seen again.”

Bronn had pulled onto the road as she talked and was speeding along when he broke out in laughter, “I don’t make it a habit of killing my dates.  Besides, we haven’t even fucked yet.”  

“Dates?”  Arya turned her head quickly.  He smiled, not responding.  So she turned her head back and took a sip of the slushie in her hand.  At feeling the rush of the cold semi-liquid drink hit her forehead, she picked her head up and said, “You mentioned body.”  

“I did.”  He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and accelerated.  Arya was convinced they would be pulled over, he was driving at least double the speed limit.  

Arya grinned back at him, hoping to hide her nervousness, “Your dates have body counts?”  

“Only the best ones.”  He flashed her a grin and she wanted to smack him to turn his attention back to the road in front of them.  Arya drove fast like this all the time, on her bike, when she was in control.  She hadn’t ever been a passenger for this kind of driving.  Sure, Gen rode fast, but it was hard to get nervous sitting on back of his bike with his big hulking shoulders blocking her view of anything.  

It wasn’t long before he was pulling into a large parking lot out on a field.  Parking spaces were made hastily in spray paint and section dividers were created with bailing twine and lathes pounded into the ground.  Across the makeshift parking lot were all the lights and music of the carnival, drawing people in.  Huge pendulum shaped rides sored through the air with the accompanying screams from their passengers.  Arya was staring through the window when suddenly the door opened for her.  Bronn stood, holding the handle and gesturing for her to climb out.  

“How good are you at sales pitches?”  Bronn asked as he shut the door behind her.  

Arya followed his lead, walking towards the lights, “You mean hustling?”  

Bronn smiled, “Yeah, how good are you?”  

Arya considered all the times that she had to convince surly patrons to stop being dickheads at Wolfswood, and how many times she had to talk her way out of shitty situations the few times she was out-muscled.  She smiled, “I’m solid.”  

“Good.  Cause carnies have to have great social skills.”  Bronn reasoned.  

“Carnies?”  Arya barely noticed walking through the entrance gate with him.

He pointed over at an empty booth and lead her towards it and said, “Yes.  Tonight, you and I are working this booth.  It’s important that we blend.”  

Arya felt indignant to suggest that she would resemble a carnival worker, “You’re saying I look like a carnie?!”  

Bronn shrugged, “You have the scraggly hair, the scrappy build, and half your clothes have seen better days.  But you were missing something.  Even being armed to the teeth, you still didn’t quite look like a carnie.”  

Arya’s jaw dropped at the audacity.  Before she could say anything, he flicked the cup in her hand and said, “It’s a good thing, I thought ahead.”  He winked as he said, “The blue lips really complete the look.”            

She fought a growl as he handed her an apron with pockets to tie around her waist and a hand full of rubber balls.  “What the fuck are these for?”  

He reached across her and flicked a switch for the lights to come on.  Arya looked back and saw a bunch of holes cut out on the board behind her, all with different points values.  Bronn projected his voice out to the people passing by, “Who wants to slam some balls into Miss Beth’s holes?!”

“Miss Beth?”  Arya whispered back at him, staring at the people turning their heads to see where this provocative yelling was coming from.

Bronn shouted out again, “Trust me boys, it’s a lot of fun!  Ladies, come take a crack at it too!  Miss Beth doesn’t discriminate!”  He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “What?  Aliases are fun.”  

Arya gritted her teeth at him and noticed the crowd growing in front of her.  Remembering that everyone was watching her, she gestured behind her and yelled out, “First ball’s free!”  

Bronn hollered out, “Hear that?!  First one’s free!  But after that, she’ll make ya pay for it!”  

Arya turned to him about to chew him out, but noticed that for as much as he was showboating, he was searching the crowd for someone.  He wasn’t kidding, he was really working.  Arya felt strange, a little pin-prickling sensation ran over her skin as goosebumps formed.  She suddenly realized that he was taking her on _a job_.  

She followed his gaze to the Tilt-A-Whirl across the way.  Arya waited to see if he would do anything, but he didn’t.  He just continued the facade, yelling suggestively to the passers by at her expense.  She allowed it because she realized the subtext in it all.  If she had any doubts, her suspicion was confirmed when it had been over an hour and he still continued to eye that same ride.  

She had just pulled down an overstuffed lama and handed it to some teenager to give his girl, when all of a sudden, Bronn stood behind her, clamping his hands on her waist.  He held her tight against him as he leaned down into her ear, “Whatever you do, keep them all looking at you.”

Something about the way he handled her and the tone in his voice made her actually want to follow his direction.  She nodded her head and as he backed away she hollered out, “Whoo!  Jeez, the holes are _behind_ me!  You need to aim your balls better!”  

The crowd roared with laughter and Bronn theatrically threw his hands up as he shouted, “Can you blame me for trying?”  

Arya made it a point to bend over more, offering the crowd some choice views of herself as she egged on people in the crowd, trying to keep their attention.  Bronn had shifted off to the side and was slowly sliding out of the booth.  She kept her eye on him as she offered bawdy laughs and stuffed cash and tickets in her pockets, tossing balls to people to throw.  It was as if time had frozen and no one could see the skilled assassin walk through the crowd and brace himself against a trailer as he screwed a silencer to his gun and took aim at the Tilt-A-Whirl.  

Arya felt her heart thundering in her chest.  She wanted to say that the idea that someone unsuspecting was going to be killed was what pulled such a reaction from her.  But in reality, she knew that it was due to the very real fear that someone would catch him in the act.  Her eyes scanned the crowd, making sure no one noticed him.  

Arya realized that he was taking his time, aiming his gun because he was timing the ride.  She suddenly had a new appreciation for the man as she pulled down a toy water gun and handed it to an older lady.  Over the crowd of people, and the music blaring out of the speakers, she didn’t hear his gun go off, but she did see him turn and untuck his shirt.  He gripped the silencer with his shirt and began unscrewing it.  It made sense that the barrel would be hot.  She watched him tuck the gun in his belt and he dropped his shirt over it as he made his way back towards her.  His smile was care-free and his walk leisurely.  

Arya felt herself tingle in response to what she had just witnessed.  He was so smoothe as he slinked back into their booth and put his hands on her hips again, pretending to try to get by her.  He whispered, “We have four more minutes before that ride stops.  How are we going to leave?”  

Arya turned her head at him and cocked her eyebrow, “You didn’t plan this far ahead?”  

“I did.  I want to see what you come up with.”  He then reached over gave her a swift smack on her ass and hollered out to the crowd, “Miss Beth’s caboose takes up the whole booth!”  

Arya laughed out loud, continuing their little show for the crowd as she frantically searched for a way out.  She didn’t want to do anything major to draw attention, thinking of how calm, cool, and collected, Bronn was.  She also knew that time was limited, and she had to think fast.  

She accepted a wad of cash from a muscled guy with a tattoo of torn flesh on his neck.  He had been playing for the last fifteen minutes, trying desperately to win a purple teddy bear for his girl, and failing miserably.  Arya’s eyes continued to rove the crowd for any clue of what to do, when she spotted a group of guys standing to the side, teasing each other about their aim.  One guy wasn’t paying attention to his friends.  His eyes were on tattoo guy’s girl.  

Bronn eyed her and whispered, “What’s it gonna be?”  

Arya glared at him and shouted at the man and his girl, “Hey you!  You’ve been playing for a long time now.  I’ve got lots of your money!  Are you ever gonna win your girl that teddy bear?!”  

The man scowled up at her and Bronn chuckled under his breath, “You think you can take him?”  

_You think I can’t?_  Arya thought as she squinted her eyes angrily at him and whispered, “I won’t have to.”  She turned back to the crowd again and gestured to the kid with the moon-eyes, “Don’t worry, if you can’t, I’m sure _he’d_ love a chance to win it for her.  And I’m sure she’d love to take whoever won home.  She doesn’t look the type to take losers home.”  

The men started posturing and people started to clear the way for them.  They were yelling at each other, the younger kid had his friends surrounding him, trying to convince the heavy weight to leave him alone.  Bronn looked back at Arya and smirked, “Nice.”  

Off in the distance, Arya watched the Tilt-A-Whirl come to a stop.  Fuck.  People would find out soon.  The first punch was thrown and Arya instantly threw up her arms, “Closed!  No fighting on fairgrounds!”  

The other people groaned a little, the people who were not entranced in the fight anyway.  Bronn threw his hands up, “You heard the little lady!  We don’t stay open for brawler-pits.”  He shut off the lights and tossed the balls under the counter.  Arya didn’t look over her shoulder to see that he was following before she scooted out the side and walked towards the car, reminding herself to go slow.  She could hear Bronn’s footsteps crunch in the dirt behind her and the adrenaline sang beneath her skin.  She felt as if she were literally vibrating with energy.  

Bronn said nothing, only smiled as he opened her door and closed it behind her.  Arya settled in the seat as he walked around to get in his side and she barely noticed the apron still around her waist, filled with cash and tickets.  He started the car and drove off.  It wasn’t until they were at least a mile down the road that she slowly turned and looked at him.  He glanced back and smiled.  Why wasn’t he talking?  Why was he so damn calm?  

“Why did you bring me here?”  Arya asked the most obvious question first.  

Bronn glanced up from the road and looked surprised that she would ask.  “Because I thought it would be good experience.”  

“Experience?  Experience for what?  Killing people?”  Randomly, the memory of him talking about his former dates popped in her head, “Or, dating you?”  

Bronn chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, “Both?”  

Arya gaped at him.  

Bronn ran a hand through his hair, keeping one hand on the wheel.  He exhaled, “Look, that night, on the boat, I saw something in you.  You could think fast and get the job done when it was life and death for you.  But I wanted to see how you’d do when your life was safe.  When the other guy wasn’t trying to put a hole in your head.”  He sighed, “When the other guy, was just a _target._ ”  

Arya sat there, replaying his words over in her head.  Was he trying to make her into an assassin?  No.  That couldn’t be it.  He said, “date.”  This was just some messed up courting thing that older men who kill people for a living did.  It must have been.  Arya decided to dismiss it, “This wasn’t a date, you know.”  

Bronn turned to her, his face incredulous, “Okay, I’ll bite.  Why not?”

“How was it?”  Arya shot back, wishing she still had more slushie to drink.  

Bronn held up a finger, “One, I bought you dinner.”  

“A slushie?”  Arya exclaimed.  

“It was appropriate for the venue.  You have no class.”  He chided her, “And two, there was a show.”  

“I was in it!”  Arya almost yelled.  

“Haven’t you ever heard of the shows that are interactive?  You’ve got no culture.”  He smirked back at her.  

Arya felt herself starting to huff, “No.  This is fucking bananas.  This was not a date.  And a guy who owns a fucking _fleet_ of Mustangs is not going to buy a girl a slushie and call that dinner.”  

“So it’s about money, is it?”  Bronn raised an eyebrow and worked to keep a straight face.  

Arya reached over and punched him in the shoulder, causing the car to swerve.  “You know what it’s about.”  

Bronn groaned, “Yes I do.  You don’t want to like me, but I’m wearing you down.”

Arya hadn’t realized how fast he’d been driving, or how long they had been bickering, when they pulled into Wolfswood.  Bronn put the car in park and hopped out.  Arya sat there for a moment, feeling the night swirl around her.  The door opened and she swung her legs out, looking up at Bronn’s smiling face.  He reached his hand down to help her out and she cocked an eyebrow at him before resigning herself to accepting it.  As she stood up, he pulled her flush against him.  She gasped a little at the unexpected full body contact.  She knew she didn’t have to worry about him stepping out of line, in all this time he had not made a move that she hadn’t already initiated.  But still she felt excitement bolt through her stomach at feeling him hard against her.  She breathed in his scent, a musky cologne that she had only smelled in magazines as a kid.  Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as his hands moved to her shoulders and gently massaged them.  His voice was a low and smooth as he spoke into the top of her head, “If this wasn’t a date, why did I open your door all night?”  

Arya picked her head up, her eyes meeting his.  Before she could speak, he continued, “And if this wasn’t a date, why did you let me?”  

Arya felt her mouth dry, unable to form words.  Bronn gave her shoulders another squeeze and smiled as he pulled away from her.  He had already walked around to the driver side of the car before Arya gathered enough wits to turn around and face him.  He leaned on the roof of his car and teased her, “Don’t worry, I respect you so much more for not putting out on the first date.”  

Arya blinked back at him.  Her lips pursed and her muscles tightened as she bawled her fists.  It was no use, he was already speeding out of the parking lot.  She considered hopping on her bike and following him for a split second.  But then decided she didn’t know if once she caught him she would pummel him, or actually fuck him.  She sighed and walked back towards the bar, her apron jingling with the loose change of the night’s adventure.


	5. The Dornish Man's Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Glad to know it qualifies this time.”

Her brother-in-law looked pitiful sitting across from her in the noisy bar.  Leave it to her sister to bring Littlefinger, of all people, down to his knees.  When that man walked into a room, people parted, averted their gaze, and prayed they were on his good side.  From what Arya had heard, his people prospered and lived quite comfortably, but she knew he didn’t get to boss status by giving out free ice cream.  Arya had been leery of Littlefinger from day one.  Sansa, on the other hand, showed no fear, instead taming him with her pussy.  Arya couldn’t help but laugh when Bronn called her sister Golden Snatch.  How true that statement seemed to be.

All joking aside, however, Arya knew Baelish was devoted to more than just Sansa’s body.  She hadn’t known much about him outside of what the world toted, but she paid attention to her sister and the ardent way with which she loved him.  On their wedding day, Arya still barely knew the man she charged after and killed for, only knowing how broken her sister would be without him.  

Baelish’s coming to Wolfswood now, though, showed her that there was more to his appreciation of Sansa than just what they shared in the bedroom.   _Poor fucker’s a goner,_ Arya thought to herself as she listened to him explain that he needed support in convincing Sansa to allow all the Starks over for Christmas.  The holiday wasn’t far off, and apparently, Baelish had been thinking ahead.  

What else did the man have to do, being laid up all this time?  And Sansa was, of course, being Sansa, playing nursemaid to him, not wanting him to be bothered with anything.  Arya felt for the guy.  She knew that if Sansa decided she was going to take care of you, you damn well got taken care of, whether you wanted it or not.  And she was a shitty listener once she got an idea in her head.  Arya bit back a smirk at the idea that Littlefinger was rendered helpless by her sister’s care-taking.  

Sansa told him that she didn’t want to have the family over because she didn’t want to overtax him.  Arya was sure that was true.  She was also sure that her sister was nervous about celebrating the holiday with him.  They had gotten married so fast that Baelish had not yet been to any of their family get-togethers.  Arya pictured Sansa sweating bullets the first time Robb criticized her parenting in front of everyone, or Bran-Flakes fell asleep high as a kite at the dinner table, or hell, even just anything Arya did.  Sansa would need to get over it, show hubs her imperfect family side and move on.  She would also have to ease up on playing nursemaid.  How could the man fly again if she never let him spread his wings?  

Arya sighed as Baelish talked, already deciding to help him, and pulled her phone out.  She made it a point of ignoring what he said, much to his visible irritation and typed into her phone, _So Starks aren’t invited to Christmas now?  Well, fuck you too, Sis!_  

She looked back up at Baelish and shrugged her shoulders, “There, you’ve been supported.”  

“Excuse me?”  Baelish tilted his head at her in confusion.  The light caught the grey hair above the ears and she truly didn’t see how Sansa could get it up for that.  Old men were not attractive, she was sure of it.  Involuntarily, her mind flashed to her memory of Bronn assassinating the man on the tilt-a-whirl and the calm and confident way he walked back to their booth.  She also couldn’t help but remember the effect it had in her pants.  

Arya took a swig of her beer to forget and held up her phone, showing him the message.  His eyes widened in surprise, “Why did you say that?!”

“Because that’s how we are.  You watch, she’ll say something back like ‘you don’t understand, he’s been through a lot’ and then I’m gonna cut through that bullshit.”  Arya laughed as one of her friends walked by smiling.  

She caught a cigarette he tossed to her, and grinned back, nodding her appreciation.  Baelish seemed mildly annoyed by the distraction but Arya couldn’t care less.  This was her home and these were her people.  He started to talk but Arya’s phone buzzed and she read, _Petyr’s been through a lot, he doesn’t need the added stress when he’s only now getting on his feet again._

She held up her phone to show Baelish and snickered when he rolled his eyes at the message.  He groaned, “I’m here, aren’t I?  Out and about.  Not an invalid any longer.”  

Arya nodded her agreement as she typed, _Are you his wife or his mother?_ She enjoyed the small smirk that grew on Baelish’s face when she showed him.  She noted smugly that he didn’t argue with her message this time.

During the three seconds it took for Sansa to reply, Arya lit her cigarette and slowly inhaled, knowing that they always tasted better when they were unsolicited.  At the vibration against the table, Baelish zeroed in on the phone, anxious to see the response.  When Arya didn’t check it, he prodded her to, “She replied, aren’t you going to read it?”  

Arya shook her head knowingly and took a drag, “Not yet.  There will be more.”

In total, four separate responses sounded on the table.  Each one only further lit Baelish’s eyes with interest, before Arya finally read them:   _That was unfair._  Then:   _Allowing someone to rest after they’ve almost died is perfectly reasonable._  Then:   _You know Bran’s going to be difficult, and I don’t want Petyr to have to be subjected to that._ Finally:   _It’s our first Christmas together._

There it was.  Sansa was anxious about doing something for the first time with her man.  For as confident as her sister was, she was also a bit nervy about some stuff.  And as much as Sansa held the Starks together, she had a knack for pushing everyone away whenever she felt inadequate.  Truth be told, Arya didn’t give two fucks about Christmas and hadn’t for years.  She just always gave thoughtful gifts and made herself go anyway because she loved the people involved, even if she didn’t care about the holiday itself.

Arya flashed the phone over to Baelish, not caring for her sister’s confidentiality.  He had opened his mouth to speak his feelings on the matter when Arya held up a finger to silence him and said, “Have a little faith.”  

She typed in, _Your man’s a pimp who sells sanded down guns and all kinds of crack.  He’s used to handling messy.  And he wants to handle YOUR messy.  Let him  ;-)_

Arya hit send.  At Baelish’s questioning eye, she answered with certainty, “Christmas is on.”

“How do you know?  She hasn’t responded yet.  What did you say to her?”  It was clear that he was trying to appear unaffected, though Arya could see the slight wrinkle of his brow.  

Arya held her phone up after Sansa’s response vibrated, _Not funny.  Fine, Dinner is at 1:00.  I miss Rickon anyway._

Upon reading Sansa’s message, Baelish cracked the first smile Arya had seen since he got there.  Then she knew that he had read up in the history when she saw a frown flicker into his smile.  He didn’t say anything about what she’s called him though.  She respected him more for his honesty in not trying to deny what he was.  He looked back at her and smiled, “Thank you.”  

Arya nodded her head and stood up from the booth, pulling her jacket on.  He followed her lead, rising from his seat as well.  

She issued him a warning, “I won’t keep playing middle-man, Baelish.  You newlyweds need to figure this shit out on your own.”

He walked gingerly beside her.  Despite his compromised state, he was sure to open the door for her, as if things like that mattered to Arya.  When she eyed him, he insisted, “It’s Petyr.  Surely by now you can call me Petyr.”    

She was about to tell him that they weren’t that close.  And that for as much as her sister loved him, she barely knew him herself.  Add to that the fact that he was fucking _Littlefinger._  But then Arya saw a car pull up for him and she wondered whether he could drive on his own yet.  The man had been obliterated that night.  Arya saw his guts pouring out of him with her own eyes.  He survived it all for her sister.  Crime lord or not, he had been through hell and back for Sansa.  The least Arya could do was acknowledge him for that.  She nodded her head and agreed, “I guess so.  After all, you’re part of the pack now.”

He grinned back at her and got in the car, nodding his head through the window.  Arya watched him pull away before she walked towards her bike.  When she got to it, she felt her phone vibrate with a message from Gendry.  It was, of course, a dick pic.  Arya chuckled and rolled her eyes as she scrolled down and read, _I’ll be back in town this weekend._

She was in the middle of typing back a snarky response when she heard the purr of an excessively horse powered engine.  Arya glanced up, not moving her head to look at the muscle car as it rolled up in front of her.  She noted that this Mustang was a dark blue with shiny chrome finish.  It looked almost _regal._

The car had stopped and Bronn was out and around to the passenger side in front of her in seconds, his movements cat-like.  She couldn’t help but notice that he was wearing a button up shirt and some nice slacks, dressed to impress.  He opened the car door for her and before he could say anything, she cut him off, “Oh, no.  No.”  

Bronn nodded his head in understanding, “I have to respect your decision.”  He then closed the door and gestured to it with a toothy grin, “Get your own damn door, Miss Death to Chivalry.”  

Arya blinked back at him for a moment and then laughed.  She had meant that she was not going to accompany him on any other escapades, but he was still focused on opening the door for her from their last encounter.  He was already bounding back around to the driver’s side when she asked, “Where are we going?”  

“We’re not going anywhere if you don’t get in the car,” Bronn said overtly before he got in and rolled the passenger window down to shout through, “Come on Punky, what else were you doing?”  

Arya looked down at the giant cock on her screen and thought, _Nothing till the weekend._  She sighed and stuffed her phone in her pocket as she approached the car.  Bronn was proving to be an interesting character and he had a point, what else was she doing?  She was already opening the door and sliding in, her eyes scanning the flawless interior and lit up display, before she realized she was agreeing to go.  When the car hadn’t moved, she looked up at him, and found herself taken aback at the bruising and lacerations around his face that she had not noticed before.  As if he didn’t notice her gaping, he flashed her a grin and said, “Seat belt.”  

She knew that his smile must have hurt, yet he offered her one anyway.  Arya pulled the belt over her chest and secured it as she stated the obvious, “Your face is fucked up.”  

“I imagine it is,” he admitted with a touch of amusement in his eyes, as he drove away from Wolfswood.  As he pulled onto the road, he asked, “Are ya hungry?”  

She knew that he was changing the subject on her, but figured she would just come back around to it.  Arya could always eat, but decided to be smart and make a show of checking the cup holders, “I don’t see any slushies in here.”  

Bronn chuckled, “No, there aren’t any.  I figured steaks.”  

“Steaks?”  Arya cocked an eyebrow at him skeptically.  That seemed random.  At least she now knew where he was taking her.  She let her eyes travel back over him, taking in his attire again.  It suddenly dawned on her, “This is a fucking date!”  

Bronn grinned proudly, “Glad to know it qualifies this time.”  

She felt herself bristle, “You’re lucky someone else already jacked you up.  It would feel wrong to hit a man that’s already taken a beating.”

“It appears you have standards too,” Bronn shrugged playfully as he turned the car.  

Arya’s head perked up when she saw him turn towards the docks.  They were less than ten minutes from Wolfswood, not far from her comfort zone.  She often times rode her bike over to these docks just to look at the boats on the water when she felt directionless.  Arya tried to keep the question out of her statement of fact, “There are no restaurants down here.”

Bronn nodded his head and pulled into a parking space, “I thought about bringing you to a restaurant, but then decided not to.”  

“What?  Why?”  Arya leaned forward in her seat, unclicking her seat belt as she inspected his face.  Why wouldn’t he bring her to a restaurant?  What was wrong with her?  Not a damn thing, that’s what.  

He had already hopped out of the car and was coming around to her door when he stopped and pointed at the handle, grinning through the glass, “It doesn’t have child safety on, so you can go ahead and open that.”  

Arya fumed as she pulled the handle and got out.  Bronn was already two or three strides ahead of her, whistling an upbeat tune she didn’t recognize with a smile plastered across his face.  She had to speed up to catch him.  She asked him again why not a restaurant and he smiled as he looked ahead and said, “Well, you’re hardly dressed for it, are you?”  

She looked down at her ripped up jeans and worn leather coat.  They were quite a contrast to Bronn’s more formal attire, though perhaps he’d planned that.  She growled back at him, “Most people tell someone when they are taking them on a date, ahead of time.  So they can dress for it.”  

She caught up to him and they walked down the dock together, her eyebrows wrinkled in irritation and his raised in aloof joy.  Bronn started to climb into a motor boat that read: _Dornish Man’s Wife._ He paused mid-climb to turn and cock an eyebrow at her, “So you’re saying that you would have if you’d known?”  

Arya waved him on, climbing in behind him, “I never said that.”  

“You _do_ want this to be a date, don’t you, Punky?”  There was a glimmer in his eyes that made Arya want to punch him to take the attention off of her growing blush.  

Men didn’t talk to her this way, talking about dates and teasing about formal attire.  Men were crude, and blunt, and to the point.  The point was always sex.  That was still true in this case, but this particular man added another layer to it.  Arya wasn’t sure she knew what that was.  She decided to do something that was not typical for her, and simply not answer.  She watched him pick up the heavy coils of rope and drop them on the deck.  It was odd to be detached from the dock, their only connection to land severed.  She followed him as he lead her up to the main controls and listened closely as he pointed at everything and explained what it was.  About four buttons and two levers in, Arya had to ask, “Not that I mind, but why are you showing me all of this?”

Bronn stepped around her, gently taking her hands and placing them on the steering wheel as he answered, “I told you I would.   _That’s_ why we’re not going to a restaurant.  Because I told you that I would teach you.  Here we are.”  

Arya searched through her memories, trying to figure out when he would have said that to her, and remembered Sansa’s wedding massacre.  She smirked at him, “You said you’d teach me how to _sail_.  I don’t see any sails on this boat.”  

He leaned over her shoulder, the smell of his cologne hitting her nostrils, “Baby steps.”  He then pointed over at the key and instructed, “Turn that.”  

She shrugged, gently bumping his chin with her shoulder, before turning the key.  The motor started loudly and Arya jumped a little in surprise.  Bronn had been standing behind her and caught her as she startled into him.  He helped her to right herself, allowing one of his hands to trail down from her shoulder blade slowly to the small of her back.  It was suggestive, though subtle compared to what Arya was used to.  She waited for his hand to wander down further and felt a sliver of disappointment when it hadn’t.  

Bronn used the leverage of his hand on her to reach around her further, his chest resting against her outstretched arm as he flicked some switches.  She was sure that in this position, he would try to take advantage of their closeness.  Whenever men pretended to try to show her how to play pool, something she was quite good at, they used it as an opportunity to rub against her.  Their pool cue and dick were like-minded in their need aim for a hole, and Arya usually got annoyed enough to shove them off.  Though, in Gendry’s case, she let his erection bruise her ass as he gave her lessons for hours.  

Bronn, on the other hand, did not use this tactic.  He let his chest brush against her back, his arms slide across hers, and even his chin tickle her shoulder.  What he did not do, was let their waists touch.  Arya didn’t understand.  The man had expressed on numerous occasions his desire for her, and she wasn’t some nervous virgin who was scared to tango with a full grown man.  Why the sudden hesitation?  She felt his lips against her ear and squirmed a little in excitement at the closeness.  Her eyes fluttered in anticipation of all the naughty things he would say to her, only to hear him giving her instructions for how to back out of the dock.  She would feel let down by it if she wasn’t so completely focused on the tactile sensation of his skin grazing past hers.  

They pulled away and started for open water, all the while Bronn playing the part of the perfect gentleman.  Perhaps the nice dress clothes he wore made a difference.  Arya wasn’t sure, but she was discovering quite quickly that she was not a fan.  The motor was too loud to be heard without shouting, leading Bronn to offer his instruction over her shoulder and into her ears.  He allowed her to turn the wheel at will and only set his hands down over hers to correct against the current when needed.  She hadn’t realized how large the man’s hands were until her own looked so dainty beneath his.  Gendry had large meat hooks, but Bronn had piano fingers.  For a moment, she let her mind wander to what those fingers might be better used for.  The last time he corrected her, he let his hand hover over hers after he let go.  The heat of his palm and the way it tickled the air around hers made her want to pick her hand up to encourage another touch.  

Though, assuming she brought her hand up into his, what was her plan?  Would she thread her fingers through his for a better grip as she pulled him tighter around her?  Would she scoot her bottom back into him as if they were in Wolfswood, draped over a pool table, drinks in hand?  No, he was not a Wolfswood man.    

Wanting all and none of it, Arya built up the courage to pick up her hand, though just as she did, Bronn moved his.  He had started the motion before she had, so it was clearly not a slight, though the abrupt nature of it caused her to feel that way regardless.  He reached to slow the motor down and then killed the engine, as he stepped away from her.  He smiled as if oblivious to her internal struggle, “It’s as good a place as any for dinner, right?”  

Arya looked around her at the beautiful night sky and the water around them, slapping quietly against the sides of the boat.  Before she could answer that yes it was a beautiful place in fact, he called over his shoulder as he strode away, “I’m gonna drop anchor.”

She stepped away from the wheel and slowly walked around the deck, taking in the scenery.  The moon and stars shone bright on the dark blue backdrop and speckled the almost black water with their light.  Arya had been on big ships when she was a kid and screwed a few guys on their boats in the harbor, but never out on the water like this before.  For as much as she was taking in the scenery, she kept one eye on Bronn.  The man held her interest in a way that no other really had, not even Gen.  It was in how he spoke to her, the way he moved, and even the things he didn’t do as much as the things he did.  Arya spotted him lifting a large bulky bag and hauling it over the side, along with some big heavy chains.  It did not look like an anchor to her, but given her very little knowledge about boats, she shrugged, and instead closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air.  

Bronn had slinked by and disappeared through a narrow door that lead down below deck.  He hadn’t said anything before going under and she could have left it at that and stayed out in the open.  

After a little while, curiosity got the better of her and she followed, slowly descending the narrow steps.  A sizzling sound filled the silence and Bronn turned around, smiling through all of his cuts and bruises, “Welcome to the galley.”  

The galley had one burner, a sink, and a mini fridge.  A small padded bench lined the wall beside it and Arya realized quickly that with some shifting, the space could easily convert into a bed.  Some blankets had been folded and tossed off to the side and she was sure she had seen some clothes on the floor kicked into a pile.  “Do you live here?”

Bronn tossed some seasoning on the steaks that he had been pouring butter over and flipping as he said, “Sometimes.”  

“Are you living here _now_?”  Arya lifted her eyebrow and asked.  It was a challenge to see how much he would share with her.  

He picked up the steaks with a fork and set them on plates, throwing some leafy greens next to them and gave her a wink with his smile, “Why?  You wanna come visit?”  He then pointed at the mini fridge.  Arya understood his non-verbal communication and opened it, seeing a six pack of beer and grabbing two.

“Why?  Lonely?”  She asked as she held the drinks and looked at the steak that had barely touched the pan.

He motioned for her to go up the stairs to the deck and answered behind her, “Not right now.”

As Arya got on deck, she decided to change the subject, “Why is your boat called ‘Dornish Man’s Wife’?”

Bronn laughed, “Because that’s where I got the money for it.  A woman paid me to kill her cheating husband.”

Arya rolled her eyes, “Ha-ha.  You named your boat after a client and not even an actual name.  I call bullshit.”  

“I didn’t use her name because I believe in confidentiality.  And I named the boat after where I got the money so that I can better appreciate my work and the nice things it gets me.”  

She felt her mouth open to respond, but wasn’t sure what to say.  He worked hard for his money, even if his job was a little less than conventional.  Arya could respect that.  She offered him a small smile and he pointed one plate at the bench on deck for her to sit.  

She took the plate from him and he plopped down beside her.  Instantly, he started cutting the steak in his lap and eating unceremoniously.  She didn’t honestly know what to expect, but it had not been this.  There was no table for him to sit across from her at, to make suggestive eye, or get fresh with their legs.  Sitting next to her, he didn’t even try to sit so intimately close to her.  It was as if they were buddies watching a football game.  

She felt slightly offended at his sudden lack of interest and grudgingly carved off a chunk of steak.  After she took a bite, she forgot about feeling affronted.  It was seasoned to perfection and absolutely melted in her mouth.  

Bronn groaned his pleasure over his own cooking and said, “Damn if that doesn’t hit the spot.”

Trying to crack a joke, if for no other reason than to contribute something to the awkward situation, Arya smiled, “Only cause I haven’t yet.”  

He sighed through his smile and set his plate down on the seat next to him.  He sat up, taking Aryas plate and setting it down out of the way, as he tugged her to sit up straighter too.  She looked back at him bewildered as he leaned in, his face inches from hers.  Arya realized that she’d never looked him square in the eyes before, never noticed how dark they were as they looked back at her.  Her body shivered and begged to turn away from the sudden intensity of them.  Arya stilled, not allowing herself such a timid response, and held his gaze.  

Bronn remained unmoving, his forearm rested on his thigh as he faced her.  He was much taller than her and had to slouch to be eye to eye, whereas Arya sat up straight and proud, offering her own presence.  She almost startled when he finally moved, lifting his hand to brush some of her hair back behind her ear.  Her eyes closed for a moment at the gentle touch, and when she opened them, Bronn offered her a warm smile that crinkled the sides of his eyes.  His voice was patient as he spoke, “I have not fucked a woman simply for what was between her legs in a long, long time.”  

“What?”  Arya couldn’t stop the question from bursting out.  Where did this come from?  He wasn’t making any sense.  

He smiled, “I’m telling you that I don’t date a lot of women.  I don’t bring a lot of women back here.”  

“Oh?  You’re a one-woman kind of guy?”  Arya teased him, inching her face closer to his.  

His eyes moved slightly, noticing her advance, before he shook his head, “Not in the slightest.”  He leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead before he continued, “But the women I spend time with mean something to me.  Whether we’re fucking, or eating, or sailing, or --”

“Killing?”  Arya challenged, searching his face.  

He brought his lips close to hers as he answered, “If the situation calls for it.”  He reached up and caught the side of her face, much as he had when they first kissed.  Though this time he brought his thumb over her bottom lip, gently brushing it as he spoke, “I wasn’t trying to hide the body from you, just had a great opportunity to be rid of it is all.  And it doesn’t make this any less of a date to me.  I don’t need to _only_ fuck you to be happy spending time with you.”  

Arya blinked back at him, not knowing where to begin.  She was just about to open her mouth when he pulled away with a grin and said, “But it sure would be a great time if we did.”  

Her mouth hung open slightly and her eyes widened more than she would have liked, as she processed what his words meant.  Had he just told her that he wanted to keep seeing her, not just to hook up?  Had he just flirted with her all this time only to pull away now and pick up his plate to eat again?  Wait, did he just confess to dumping a body in the water?  Arya looked up at him as he pulled an excited face and said, “Oh!  Next time will be our third date.  You will be well within your rights to have your way with me if you wish.”  He laughed and then shrugged his shoulder and said, “Or we could just focus on graduating you to an actual sail boat.”      


	6. A Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself. She burst out laughing. She wouldn’t say it, but she had missed him, a lot.

It was just a dream; an absolutely harmless and completely erotic one. Arya had always considered threesomes selfish, and no matter how arranged, always to the benefit of the man or _men_. This on the other hand, didn’t give her that feeling at all. Perhaps that’s why it wasn’t real.

There was no context, no shoddy plot to the porn enacted in her subconscious. They were both naked on her living room floor, as she rode fast and hard, her tits slapping each other with the force. She stared straight ahead at feet she recognized to be Gendry’s, hearing the crack of a palm against her ass. He moaned encouragement behind her, so realistic she could feel her insides accommodating the cock that wasn’t there. Her hardened nipples rubbed against the cotton of her oversized t-shirt, and she knew that part to be true. Cotton was tangible, from the real world. Her imagination felt too good, sending flutters of excitement down to her core. She shut her eyes tight, willing herself to stay engaged, stay asleep to keep riding out the sensation.

A quiet creaking sound snatched her attention, causing her look up. Bronn stood in the doorway looking down. Panic washed over her as she prepared for the mortification that was sure to follow in this dream turned nightmare. True to the imagined, he didn’t seem startled by what he walked in on, his face holding none of the usual expressions of surprise. The anxiety that tightened her chest, eased as she stared back into his eyes, dilated with interest. She continued her glide up and down on the cock that filled her, as if stuck in a motion she couldn’t stop. When she realized that not only had Bronn not said anything, but that neither had Gendry, she looked back over her shoulder. His lidded eyes were soft, as was the smile on his face as he moaned underneath her and ran his hands up over the rounds of her ass, smoothing the reddened spank. It was as if he didn’t notice the man that had just walked in. She wondered briefly if she obstructed Bronn from his sight, or if he was simply too lost in his own view to see the hitman.

Another tingle tickled between her legs, teasing her to ruck up her shirt and find the waistband to the boxer shorts she often slept in. Bronn’s mouth opened a little, his eyes dark and invested. Something told her to look down, to recognize the bulge that grew in his pants. A smile spread across her lips as she realized that Bronn kept quiet because he liked what he saw. Whether it was her naked tits bouncing with each pump, the look of pleasure she couldn’t hide, or the sloppy sounds of joining that her imagination was too detailed to leave out, she’d didn’t know. Something he saw provoked a need in him and she’d never before felt so sexy because of it. She had a man solid inside her and another equally hard just watching, wishing he had a little piece of the action. She felt her legs tighten together, pressing to pressure the area of need under the privacy of her her covers.

In a loss of inhibition, she held a finger to her lips as she looked at Bronn. He raised an eyebrow, obviously resisting the urge to tell her that he’d been quiet all along. When she waved him closer, he took a few cautious steps forward, into her grip. Her rhythm on Gendry allowed her to tug at Bronn’s fly while she stared into his eyes, sparkling with lust. He reached down to help her, taking his cock out and bringing it close to her mouth. Arya flattened her tongue and gave him a tentative lick, enjoying the shaky way he breathed. His eyes fluttered shut when she took him in completely, flexing her muscles around the man still beneath her.

The tingling turned to a throb as she considered holding two different men inside of her at the same time. Her fingers slid beneath the elastic band that served as a barrier between dream and reality. Bronn’s hand come to rest on her head as she rocked back and forth on Gendry, her mouth covering and uncovering the man in front of her. They both gave her themselves, panting and moaning in the pleasure she gave them. Their hands held her, fingertips massaging, worshipping and thanking her. Her own hand roved over the light dusting of hair that a few days without shaving grew. The moisture that surrounded her, turned damp as she neared her destination.

She had one hand braced on Gendry, her thighs feeling the burn of their extended intimacy, and the other on Bronn’s hip, holding onto him to time their push-and-pull. Cotton rubbed against her knuckles, reminding her how secret her behavior was. Bronn kept the fingers of one hand rooted in her hair, while the other palm stroked her face, a silent appreciation for the relief she was offering. Gendry’s grip was wide and strong, guiding her hips, helping to lift her. She let go of Bronn’s hip, her hand sliding down his thigh until it broke away from him, settling between her own legs.

This was wrong. Two men at the same time. Arya pressed against the slippery flesh, feeling each nerve ending fire joyfully. Her back arched up off her bed, taut nipples trapped under her shirt, begging to be freed. She uncovered one breast to the open air, feeling the indecency of such exposure. Bronn’s labored exhale and Gen’s sharp inhale resonated in her ears as her entire body tightened, pressing back against the friction her fingers found.

A loud buzzing sound picked and pulled at her, tugging her away from them. It was her phone and she knew it, but she refused to be taken so easily. Her lids tightened as she imagined each ridge her tongue ran over and each internal intrusion. She refused to stop feeling them, feeling so cherished, as her wrist started to protest. Whoever it was could wait. Never again would she feel this. Reality would make this wrong. Reality would make this impossible. Desperate to reach her finish, she brought her other hand down to join the first, hips bucking up into tense fingers.

The familiar buzzing sounded again. She fought against it, sadly becoming more and more aware of the sheets that surrounded her and the bed that cradled her. The heady scent of man dissipating, and the fine details of the imaginary faded as the buzzing turned to a ringing. The air around her thinned. It was much cooler and crisper than in her dream, though perhaps that was to remind her that she was alone. She listened to the sticky wet sounds of her fingers dug knuckle-deep in her slit and could no longer doubt how very awake she was. _Fucking phone_ . At first she decided she didn’t care; she was going to finish. Then she started to think too much. Two back-to-back calls usually meant it was serious. _Fuck_. She withdrew her hands, and sat up.

Blinking her eyes open, she squinted away the light and peered down at her phone. It was Sansa that had called twice. Arya reached forward and paused, seeing the shimmer of herself on her fingers. She lifted the phone with her only clean fingers, ring and pinkie, and set it in the crook of her neck as she headed for the bathroom. Lathering the soap into bubbles between her hands, she took extra care to coat her more active fingers as she listened to Sansa’s voice. Her sister extended an invitation to the range, though with somewhat more enthusiasm than normal.

If she went to meet with Sansa, Arya would have to hurry to make it back to Wolfswood in time for open. Jaqs had asked her to cover the bar while he was away. It was something he’d never done before, ask her to cover, or leave in the first place. He hadn’t explained what called for his hasty departure and she hadn’t asked, too excited to take the reins and prove herself capable.

Arya dried her hands on the towel she’d left tossed on the side of the sink and texted back that she would be there in an hour, knowing she would be a little late. She was on the hunt for clean clothes, when a pounding at her front door almost startled her heart out of her chest. “Who is it?” She hollered.

“Housekeeping!” A familiar male voice pitched high, attempting to be feminine.

A release of tension dropped her shoulders, and allowed her head to loll back as she rolled her eyes and took a breath. Gendry wasn’t supposed to be back in town for another week, not that she minded, she just hadn’t expected. She yelled back, a smile touching her lips, “We don’t want any!”

“Come on, open up!” He laughed. His voice lowered as he promised, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Arya already had her hand on the doorknob, turning it, taking no time to consider his meaning. Her eyes met his chest, reminding her how wonderfully they fit together, being so extremely opposite. He was larger than most, and she was smaller than just as many. Her eyes traced the rippling muscles that stretched his shirt to its limits, her nostrils filling with his entirely masculine scent. He grinned down at her before dropping to a knee and muckling onto her hand. She squealed at the sudden motion and looked at him flabbergasted as he kissed the back of her hand and exclaimed, “I have returned, Milady!”

“Start drinking early, Gen?” Arya pulled her hand from his.

He was upright and striding past her into her apartment as he completely ignored her, “Just rubbed one out, huh?”

Arya whipped around, shock and embarrassment heating her palms and face. How could he possibly know that? She shut the door loudly to emphasize her rapidly diminishing enthusiasm with his presence. “What are you talking about?”

She hadn’t noticed the body-bag sized duffle he was carrying casually over his shoulder until he dropped it with a loud thud on the floor. Did he have everything he owned in there? He flashed her some teeth as he explained, “It’s the only time your hands smell like soap.”

The back of her neck heated, and her lips pursed. She was just about to tell him to fuck off, when he made a show of sniffing the air before throwing his hands up in supposed disappointment. “What I don’t smell, is my breakfast cooking.”

She took a breath, unable to calm her expression as she gestured between the two of them. “And just what makes you think that _I’d_ cook _you_ breakfast?”

He started rifling through her fridge, pulling out a half gallon of milk before saying, “I was under the impression that this was room _and board_.”

“Ha-ha. You don’t live here.” Arya crossed her arms over her chest, set.

Gendry took a long pull off the milk jug and clicked the cap back in place. “I might just as well.”

“What?” Arya’s arms flexed involuntarily with her irritation.

He shut the fridge and gestured up at nothing in particular, a smug smile on his face as he explained. “Let’s face it, you’re gonna invite me back here tonight. We’ll eventually collapse on each other, sleep through the night, and then I’m gonna need a shower in the morning. So, you know, looks like a duck, quacks like a duck....”

The audacity in assuming that she’d want him to stay with her, that she would want to jump him the day he got back, was infuriating. So what, if that’s how it usually went. So what, if he always crashed at her place while he was in town. It still shouldn’t have been assumed. “Out!”

He frowned, “Aww, come on! Didn’t you miss me?” Then he winked as he laughed, “I know you can get a bit squirrely without a little cock.”

That did it. Arya growled as she charged forward and jumped him, muckling on, to find a good grip. His laughter spurred her on as he tumbled back against the counter. She punched at his shoulder, and wrapped an arm around his neck. He’d turned, backing against her kitchen table, off balance as he fought to keep her limbs to herself. Arya felt a surge of victory when she put him in a headlock and they sank to the floor. She boasted, lips against his ear, “You think I go without?”

He wheezed and laughed, prying her arms from his throat. “No. You think my cock’s little?”

She couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself. She burst out laughing. She wouldn’t say it, but she had missed him, a lot. The hard planes of his body, the smell of his cologne mixed with his rough leather coat, and most of all, his smile. Half mocking her, and if she were honest, half loving her too. Not that she wanted to explore the depth of that anytime soon. Gendry was familiar, safe, and _fun_ . For as big and dumb as he could be, he was very intuitive and sharp, and gave her something that no other man ever had: comfort. Which, was why their friendship _plus more_ , meant so much to her.

It was deep in this introspective moment that Gendry got the best of her. She wanted to call out that it wasn’t fair, she was distracted, but she wasn’t about to tell him what she was distracted by. One large calloused hand had captured both her forearms, holding them down on her stomach. Her legs kicked and flailed, wanting desperately to gain the advantage again.

He chuckled, “Oh, I have definitely missed you, muscles.” He laid across her legs, crushing them with his hulking weight, and used his free hand to yank her boxers down. She knew her womanhood was on display when she felt his hot breath hovering above it.

Unable to move her arms, she lifted her head as high as she could, all of her stomach muscles crunching. The dimples in his cheeks deepened as he closed his eyes and buried his nose in her finer hair, pushing against her nub. Waves of pleasure rolled over her at the contact and excitement of their current position, rough dusty carpet fibers scraping her back where her shirt rode up. “You smell so good.”

Arya forgot she was supposed to be struggling, besting him, too captivated by the feel of his face pressed into her. Her hips lifted against her will when she saw his tongue stick out, his eyes glittering with mischief. She pursed her lips and said, “You say that to all the girls.” It wasn’t because she was jealous, or that she cared about who he fucked when he was on the road. She simply wanted to diminish the effect of his words. She liked it too much.

He ran his tongue over her seam, playfully watching her squirm and wiggle. He did it a couple of times before he replied, “Sure, but I mean it _extra_ with you. It’s why we keep coming back to each other.”

He let his tongue dip a little lower, lapping up the evidence of her arousal as she shot back, “I keep fucking you because I smell good?” She wrestled one arm free, and started to smack at his shoulders with much less conviction than she’d like to admit.

He let go of her waistband, satisfied that it would stay in place, and caught her other hand. He held both arms in place over her stomach and brought his head up just long enough to say, “And you taste good.”

He found her bundle of nerves, running long wet strokes over it as she thrashed beneath him, moaning and exclaiming. “Ffffuck, Gen!”

“I like the way you taste, and you like the way I eat you up.” He chuckled before burying his face back into her, his licks fast and merciless. The muscles in her legs intermittently flexed, tightening and relaxing, trembling. She wasn’t sure when exactly he let go of her arms, but used the freedom to dig her nails into the floor on either side of her. His fingertips snuck beneath her shirt, reaching up to the hardened peaks that ached for attention. The metal divider between linoleum and carpet scratched the top of her ass as he drove his mouth further into her, sucking all her tender flesh to the edge of reason. She inhaled sharply, holding it, every muscle in her body taut, her heart racing at the speed of his tongue. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, staring up at the water stained ceiling tiles in her shitty apartment, praying for release, it came. Her body no longer belonged to her, acting against her will with its jerking motions. Hips bucked, fists bawled, and toes definitely curled.

Gendry locked his arms around her legs, and kept his mouth in place, refusing to leave her to writhe alone. He would ride this out with her; he always did. There was a comfort to that, knowing that whatever happened, he would hold on for as long as he could. If her brain were able to work right, she might wonder if that dedication extended past sex.

A few minutes passed, and Arya caught her breath, while Gendry wiped his face with the bottom of her t-shirt. She looked around and realized quickly that she was on her living room floor. A light blush creeped on her chest as she thought of her dream and the odd sense of deja vu she was just having. It wasn’t a threesome, but it was a sexy time with a naughty man right on her living room floor.

“I got promoted to team lead.” Gendry’s voice pulled her back to reality.

She looked down at him, “Congratulations.”

“Yeah.” He let his head rest on the inside of her thigh. “I’m head welder now.”

Arya brushed some stray strands from his face, but stopped herself from running her fingers through his hair. “That’s great.”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes. “A lot’s changed.”

“Oh yeah?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

She brought her elbows behind her, lifting herself up to ask, “More cash?”

“Mmhmm.” He made a show of yawning.

“Great.” She was getting the impression that it wasn’t great. She probed a little more, “More travel?”

“Eh. About the same.” He shrugged and turned his head against her leg, opening his eyes again.

“Gendry Waters!” She grabbed a handful of his hair. “You tell me right now what these big changes are!”

He chuckled, “ _Benefits_.”

“Oh.” Was that all? She tried to think about why that would be a big deal to him. “Benefits mean real grown-up job.”

“Yeah. And, there’s more…” The way he smiled, a nervousness in his eyes, told her she wouldn’t like it, whatever it was. “I wrote your name down.”

“For what?”

“Everything. Emergency contact, next of kin, beneficiary.” He turned his head and kissed the soft skin of her thigh.

“Gen, what the fuck?” Arya had a hard time keeping her jaw from dropping. That was a lot. A lot of responsibility. A lot of assumption.

She started to sit up, pushing him away as she did. He wouldn’t be deterred, clamping down on her legs to stop her. “Hear me out.”

Arya glanced down at her naked lady bits and reached to pull her boxers up. Gendry figured out what she was doing and started to help. She sighed, “I’m listening.”

He let her go and stood up, satisfied that she would, in fact, allow him to explain. He ran a hand through his hair and paced a little in front of her as she pulled herself up off the floor. “They had me sit down in this tiny office with this old guy in a tie and fill out a bunch of forms. They kept asking me for a name. My mother’s name? I haven’t got one. Spouse’s name? None there. Domestic Partner’s name? That’s a laugh.”

“I’m not your wife.” She glanced at the clock, knowing she had to get moving if she was going to see Sansa.

He must have just realized his coat was still on, because he frowned a little as he took it off. “I don’t remember proposing.”

“So then why in the world did you write my name down on all that shit?” Arya walked toward her bedroom, foregoing the shower she definitely needed.

Gendry followed behind her, plopping down on the bed. “They kept saying, ‘There must be someone Mr. Waters,’ as if I am just surrounded by people to call.”

“What about the guys? Huh? Hot Pie or Lommy? Fucks-sakes Gen, even Yoren?”

“I thought about them. But, I don’t like any of them enough to just give a shit-ton of cash to them, if I kick the bucket.” He shrugged.

Arya rolled her eyes, grabbing some clean clothes out of her drawers as she stripped. “Why not? You’ll be dead. What would you care?”

He didn’t answer for a minute and she swatted at him, seeing the close attention he paid to her nudity. He adjusted the bulge in his lap and shrugged his shoulders, “What? It’s a been a little bit since I let the bull out of the pen, if you get my drift.”

He smiled, hoping his inappropriate humor would soften her. Arya pulled her shirt over her head and buttoned her pants, barely looking at him as she searched for a clean pair of socks.

Gendry groaned, “Fuck Arya!”

He hated it when she went silent, and she knew that. She rolled her eyes as she picked up her boots from under the kitchen table. “Out with it Gen. I’m not your next of kin, not even close. Why did you put my name on all that?”

He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s like this, anyone who gets given cash when I die, should be the same person the hospital calls. They have to give a shit enough to show up, hang out a bit, maybe tell off a doctor or two.”

“Jesus, Gen, that was one time! And, he was a total dipshit.” Arya exclaimed as she laced up one boot. He was referring to the time Gendry was drunk off his ass and got in a fight at Wolfswood. He was too drunk to handle himself that night and ended up in the hospital. Arya hopped on her bike and followed behind. She met him in the emergency room and told off a couple of doctors for their terrible bedside manner.

Gendry started laughing and reached for her, folding her in his arms. He rest his chin on her head and said, “It was one time more than any of them. You think Hot Pie ever stalked a nurses station to make sure that they were aware of my pain level? Cause I can promise you, he never once has.”

She stilled in his arms, feeling just how completely he surrounded her. His voice was warm above her, “This doesn’t have to mean anything, Arya.”

“Oh?” She reached back, and gripped the erection that pressed against her. “You seem awfully excited about it.”

He drove himself further into her hand. “You just gotta pick up the phone. Someone calls to tell you I’m hurt, you pick up.”

She turned her head, looking at the front door. “And what if you’re more than hurt?”

Gendry sighed deeply before letting her go, and stepped over to the kitchen table, picked up his coat, and rifled through the breast pocket. “Here, take this card. If I die, call the number on here and they will transfer the cash to you.”

Arya looked down at the card, a mix of emotions. “I don’t know, Gen. I don't need the money, you know that.”

He lifted her hand and pushed the card in it. “Look, it's not about whether or not you need the money. It's that you're the only one I want to have it. And, this doesn’t mean you’re my old lady, okay? So just chill. You’re my best friend. They needed a name, I used my best friend’s.”

She glanced back over to the door and nodded quickly, agreeing. “I gotta go. Sans is waiting on me.”

“Okay. I’m gonna chill here, if that’s cool?” He made it a point to yawn and stretch. “It was a long ride and I could crash for an hour or two.”

“Yeah, sure. Cereal’s in the cupboard if you’re hungry.” She turned to leave, still feeling blindsided.

“How long you gonna be gone? We have some catching up to do.” Gendry raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Her hand was on the doorknob when she looked back over her shoulder. “Gonna have to wait until later. I’m opening Wolfswood after I meet with Sansa.”

“Opening?”

She couldn’t contain her smile, “Yeah. Jaqs is out of town, and he asked me to take over while he’s gone.”

“That’s awesome, Arya.” What had been a flirty smirk, transformed to a genuine grin that held some pride. “That’s really cool. I know you’ve been wanting it.”

She smiled and nodded before stepping out, feeling too discombobulated to offer any more of a response. A quick glance at her phone showed two messages. The first was Sansa asking where she was, and the second was from an unknown number. It read, _Sailing lesson?_

Gendry had just gotten back, and he’d taken a bold step forward in their relationship, without consulting her. It made her want to punch him, and kiss him, at the same time. She thought of staying snuggled in his arms, and then shook her head and reminded herself that they were just friends. Gendry could either understand that, or be responsible for his own broken heart. Judging by how much ass he got on a regular basis, he’d be just fine.

Still, he hadn’t been been in town for a while and she looked forward to sharing a little time and space with him before he left. Especially since she didn’t know when he was leaving. Deciding to play it safe, she thought it best to decline the invitation.

Except that when she closed her eyes, she saw Bronn’s gaze, thick in its craving. She could almost feel the warmth of his hands caressing her face as she took him in her mouth, just as she had in her dream. Before she knew what she was doing, she typed, _Yes._

Instantly regretting it, she typed, _I can’t tonight though. I’ve got other plans._

She shook her head at her own awkwardness and climbed on her bike. At this rate, she hoped that whatever was going on with Sansa didn’t require too much thought, as she was clearly not operating at her finest.


	7. A Bit of Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I worked so hard to get it there.

Arya looked down at the shiny double-barrel shotgun laying across her open palms. It was gorgeous, everything about it: the design, the weight, the clean clicking sound it made when she opened and inspected it. She was almost certain that should she be so inclined to lick it, the thing would taste spectacular too. She glanced up at Sansa standing before her with a smug smirk. Of course Sansa would be smug right now, having given her the perfect gift. Arya used the mental image of her sister grimacing in disgust at her, to stop herself from testing her theory concerning the gun’s taste.

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath before thrusting the gun back into Sansa’s grip. “You don’t need to buy me with a gift.” Any hope she had that Sansa would take her seriously, was dashed as her own hand betrayed her, reaching forward and sliding over the stock, feeling all the bumps and divots. 

“I’m not  _ buying you _ , Arya.” Sansa insisted, to which Arya snorted.  

Sansa pushed the gun back into Arya’s arms. “Think what you want, but I saw it and thought of you.”  

“Presents without occasion have prices.” Arya narrowed her gaze at her older sister.  

The powerful redhead sighed, and placed a hand on her hip, exasperated. “You sound like Dad.”

An ice-cold tidal wave of grief crashed into Arya, her only defense against it was to plant her feet and brace herself for the freezing wash of pain.  _ Dad. _ It was one thing for her mind to wander as it was prone to do, onto the subject of the fallen head of Stark household. It was another entirely for someone else to reference him in conversation, so casually. She glared up at her sister, seeing the shocked expression on her face. It seemed Sansa hadn’t meant to poke at her sore spots.

Arya gave a sad smile, teasing her to show her that she knew no offense was meant. “Well, if you weren’t apologizing for before, then you certainly are now.” Arya took firm grip of the shotgun, eyes looking it over again as she said, “Apology accepted.”

Sansa took a breath before adding, “The gun is not an apology, but I am actually sorry, for worrying you. I wasn’t thinking--” 

“You were high.” Arya got down to brass tax. 

“Yes,” Sansa agreed. “Pretty much the whole time.” 

Arya couldn’t help but snicker at the idea of perfect Sansa partying it up, rocking a week-long buzz. “Well, it was about time you two had a honeymoon. I’m glad he was feeling well enough to give you one.”

“Me too. Of course, it helps that Petyr has so many connections, otherwise Braavos wouldn’t have been as fun.” Sansa boasted.

Arya had gotten used to Sansa’s sense of pride when it came to her husband. Sansa always liked the nicer things in life. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to understand she was referring to the drugs available to them because of her husband’s lifestyle. With drugs, also came shady associates. “Be careful, Sansa.” 

Her older sister smiled, “Are you being protective of me?” 

“Well, when I hear you’re hanging around strange guys…” Arya remembered the conversation over the phone with Sansa all too well. She had said she was in a different country with a strange man. It took some time to get out of her that Petyr was there too and she was safe.  

Sansa shook her head, defending the Braavosi drug dealer, “Oberyn’s not strange. He just...thinks  _ outside _ the box. Petyr deals with him whenever they’re in the same city, so Petyr okayed him.” Sansa smiled to herself, lost in a memory of her ‘honeymoon.’ 

“Outside the box, huh?” Arya interrupted her daydreaming, using knowledge of Sansa’s inebriated confession that Oberyn and his wife were in an ‘open’ marriage, as reference. Her naughty dream of her and both Gendry and Bronn flashed in her mind, involuntarily.

Sansa nodded, “They just like having  _ a bit of fun _ . I know it sounds odd to us, being in relationships--”

“I’m not in a relationship,” Arya was quick to clarify, thinking back to Gendry’s smiling face as he told her that he gave his company her name for all of his health benefits.

Sansa smirked, “Sure. You’re definitely not Gendry’s girlfriend.” She pointed at the blade on Arya’s hip, as if her carrying his handiwork meant that they were a mere step away from moving in together.

“I’m not,” Arya started packing the gun back away in it’s case. 

“Do either of you fuck other people?” Sansa crossed her arms over her chest, as if she was going to get to the bottom of this. 

Arya chuckled, knowing she was about to take her off guard. “Yes.” 

Sansa’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting that answer. It wasn’t that Arya really ever did have sex with anyone other than Gendry, since they became friends with benefits, but the point was that she could. She was not in a relationship like Sansa and Baelish-- _ Petyr.  _ Her internal clarification must have been evident on her face because Sansa’s surprised look turned to one of scrutiny, as if knowing that she wasn’t being entirely truthful. 

Arya broke under that pressed and added as an afterthought, “At least, not when he’s in town.” 

“Not when he’s in town?” Sansa scoffed. “Oh you are so very much a couple.” 

Arya scowled at her. 

“When’s the wedding? Do you already have your initials engraved on your silver set?” Sansa teased. 

“Shut up,” Arya growled. 

Sansa shook her head. “No. You’re more serious with him than I’ve ever seen you with anyone. The fact that you stay faithful to him, even if it’s just when he’s in town, is a  _ huge _ step for you. You love him.”

_ You love him.  _

It was Sansa’s words that filled her thoughts that night, with each beer she poured, each bill she shoved in the register. It was Arya’s big chance, to prove to Jaqs that she could handle Wolfswood. She should have had her entire focus on doing just that, instead she was thinking about what took place on her apartment floor hours before, and what it meant for her future. 

A couple of times, she overfilled mugs, beer and foam rolling down the sides into the drip tray. The regulars teased her, “I think you’ve spilled enough beer to make a mug.” 

She rolled her eyes at them, smiling as she told them to, “Shut up, already.” 

When Gendry walked in, he had Hot Pie and Lommy with him. Yoren was already at the pool table, about two beers in. Arya threw a towel over her shoulder and started filling mugs to meet each man as he approached. She didn’t need to ask what they were drinking, having been their drinking buddy for quite a while. 

“Right on,” Hot Pie approved, lifting the mug in a silent salute. 

Lommy took his mug, smiling back at her, “You’re a natural, Arry.” 

Gendry waited until they both turned, before he leaned against the counter, “Looking good, muscles.” 

Arya nodded at him, and instinctively downplayed her accomplishments. “This place runs itself.”

“Good thing,” Gendry shrugged. He leaned further over the counter, lowering his voice, “Cause you and I have an appointment tonight.” 

Her heart sped up. She couldn’t help it. From the first day she met him, Gendry Waters had that effect on her.  _ You love him _ , Sansa’s words echoed in her head again. Fucking Sansa. 

Arya poured another mug of beer as she watched Gendry laugh over a pool stick across the room. Yoren shook his head and bent over the table, taking his shot. Yoren would win, he always did. The man was much older and had way more experience at the table, but Gendry was a good showman and would make it an entertaining game regardless.

With her attention divided between Gendry, and keeping beer in mugs and money in the till, she hadn’t noticed Bronn until she heard the unmistakable sound of his voice talking to another customer. “It’s not as if I wanted to keep her, just appreciate her for a while.”

Arya’s head turned quickly to see Bronn sitting at the end of the bar with a couple of regulars, sipping a beer. A beer she poured, no less. How hadn’t she noticed? He winked at her and she instantly felt a blush heat her face. It was a strange thing, to feel as if she had been transported back in time, to when she was younger. Getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar was only somewhat comparable to being sighted behind the bar by Bronn. The man had been very clear that he thought she was capable of much more than managing a run down bikerbar. She told him that she couldn’t see him that night, that she had other plans, never saying what those might be. 

Did he come here to check on her? He must have. Why else would he be in there, instead of on his boat dumping bodies for sister? She didn’t wonder long if he knew that Gendry was back in town. A quick glance over his shoulder told her that Bronn was well aware. 

He smiled at her as he spoke to the men around him. “So, I says to the guy, ‘look, are you the only one who can appreciate this fine woman’s beauty?’ And, he says, ‘she’s my wife, so yes.’ Well I didn’t like that, did I? So I said, ‘As long as men have eyes to look, and cocks to fuck, they’re gonna worship at the cunts of women.’ He said nothing, at first. And then he punched me.” The crowd around Bronn roared in laughter. “If you ask me, he wasn’t a very bright fellow.” 

“Or, perhaps he was very wise to sniff you out as a snake.” Arya spoke harshly, offended at the prospect that he may be checking up on her. For a man who boasted about free love and being above jealousy, he was definitely acting as though he suffered the ailment of a more monogamous mindset. The bar quieted and she realized how sharp her tone was for the company around them. To play more to the audience she added, “Slithering your way between his wife’s legs.” 

The imagery made the men laugh and in some cases, give Bronn an “at-a-boy,” hand on the back. Arya leaned in closer to Bronn, and raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought I told you I had plans tonight?” 

“Ya did,” Bronn sighed.

“Checking up on me?” Arya glared at him as she refreshed his drink.

He gave a martyred sigh, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Arya scoffed. 

He reached across the counter quickly, gripping her wrist. He let his thumb rub over it as he spoke suggestively, “I’ll tell you what I do dream of, though, if ya ask nicely.” 

The blush on Arya’s cheeks darkened as she remembered the feel of being filled by both men. She scowled at him, pulling her arm free. “If you’re not checking up on me, what’re you doing here?”

He laughed and used an exaggerated tone, mocking his own words as he let his gaze drop to her chest, “ _ As long as men have eyes to look, and cocks to fuck… _ ”

“Charming,” Arya crossed her arms, blocking his view.

“I’m not some husband looking for his wife. I don’t need to catch you polishing some other man’s knob.” Bronn took a sip of his drink. “But you are nice to look at, and you haven’t exactly told me not to.”

He wasn’t wrong. She drew a breath, unsure of her response, when out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gendry lift his empty mug, to show her it was empty. She gave a quick glance around determining that everyone’s drink was set before she grabbed a full mug and came around the counter. 

“Excuse me,” Arya called back over her shoulder as she walked towards Gendry, not caring if Bronn said anything else. Or perhaps she did, and that’s why she left. She wasn’t sure of anything except Gendry, and lately he wasn’t exactly as predictable as she preferred. 

Gendry threw an arm around her neck, not stopping his conversation, “What do you call morning wood?” 

“A fucking pain in the ass when you’re trying to take a piss!” Yoren was quick to respond. 

“Breakfast in bed,” Arya answered, having known the punchline to Gendry’s overused joke. 

They all roared in laughter and Gendry let his arm slip off her shoulders, sliding down her back until his hand settled on her ass. 

Lommy racked up the balls and chuckled, “Well, we know what Arry’s eatin’ in the morning.” 

Arya laughed, “That’s funny, I could have swore Gen was talking about you and Hot Pie. Hey, it true you two book a single bed when the company puts you up in a hotel?” 

“Oh!” Gendry belted out a laugh, and Yoren cracked a smile. 

Hot Pie and Lommy shook their heads, both denying it so quickly that it only made them look all the guiltier. Gendry spoke down against the top of her head, “You’re doing a great job tonight, muscles. I’m proud.” 

She nodded against him, “I gotta get back.” 

“Yeah, okay.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and gave her ass a good crack of his palm before raising his voice comically to be heard by their group, “Back to work barkeep!”

Yoren rolled his eyes and the boys laughed. Arya shook her head, smiling, as she turned around and started back for the bar. Bronn hadn’t left, or taken his eyes off her the whole time, seeing Gendry’s show of familiarity. He didn’t sound upset, only bored as he said, “You did tell me that you had plans.” 

She stopped in front of him. “I did.” 

“Perhaps another time then?” He raised an eyebrow at her. 

His cologne hit her. It was subtle that far away, but it snuck it’s way past the smell of smoke, sweat, and stale beer, filling her nostrils. It was faint, but it reminded her of when she had the opportunity to enjoy it more, with his arms around her, hands covering hers on the steering wheel to the boat. She could hear his voice in her ear explaining the controls. Detached from herself, lost in the memory, she barely heard herself say, “ _ No _ .” 

Bronn’s cheek pulled to the side in a chaffed smile. “That’s a shame.” 

Arya glanced back over her shoulder at Gendry and the boys, laughing without a care in the world. She shook her head at them, and when she turned back to Bronn saw him standing to leave. Without thinking, her hand jutted out and stopped him. 

Bronn looked down at her hand pressed against his chest. Again, he raised an eyebrow at her in question. Arya stared at the chest hair between her fingers, peeking out of the undone top buttons of his shirt. “Meet me out back at closing time?”  

His look was suspicious, but he nodded his head regardless. She let go of him, and walked back behind the bar, keeping her head down. When she finally had to guts to lift it again, he was gone. Arya sighed and threw her hair back into a quick ponytail before clearing some empty mugs off the counter and tossing a distracted smile at a couple of customers who attempted small talk with her. 

She watched Gendry throughout the night, and kept an eye out for any reappearance from Bronn. Each time the welder smiled her way, she sent him one in return, and wondered silently to herself just what in the hell she was doing. Why had she asked Bronn to return? 

Gendry was back in town, and they had  _ plans _ .

‘Plans’ was beginning to feel a lot like expectations. So much had happened that day. Too much. She woke up to Gendry literally giving her all his worth, as if she were the woman he was planning on settling down with. Only to then, see her sister and hear her proclaim that Arya was in fact, Gendry’s girlfriend. It was a level of commitment that she didn’t sign up for.

Her last patron had gulped back his mug and tossed some bills down on the counter, giving her an appreciative nod. Arya had already been washing and wiping out all the glassware as the numbers dwindled down, leaving very little clean up. Gendry had left with the crew, winking at her as he stumbled backwards through the front door. He had barely gotten back to his bike before he texted her,  _ See ya in a few. _

She knew he was looking forward to finishing what they’d started that morning. Any other day, she might have felt the same. She kept hearing Sansa’s words echo in her head,  _ You love him. _

Maybe. 

Probably.

So what? 

Love wasn’t a part of the deal, never was. It was all supposed to be simple, and mutually beneficial. They each got a great friend and a guaranteed fuck a few times a month. Then he ruined it by bringing feelings into play. Expec- _ fucking _ -tations. Well, screw his expectations. And screw him for having them.

She shut off all the lights and opened the back door, firm in her resolve that Gendry’s loving gesture was the stuff of assholes.

Bronn was waiting outside, as she asked him to. He was leaning against his car, smiling back at her. Quickly, she pulled out her phone and texted Gendry back,  _ Closing takes a bit, I’ll be home later than I thought. _

“You know,” Bronn shrugged, “I think this is the first time you actually requested my presence, punky.” 

Looking for any reason she could find, she glanced over to her bike. “I wanna show you something.” 

“Do you now?” Bronn scanned her up and down  _ slowly _ , more suggestively this time. 

Arya chuckled softly and walked over to her bike, pulling the case containing the shotgun off it. She waited until she was in front of him, before she opened it. His eyes grew wide as he reached for it, running his fingertips over the stock. “She’s a beauty.”

“Isn’t she?” Arya beamed, feeling her anxiety ease over the mutual appreciation over the deadly weapon positioned between them. “Wanna go somewhere to see what she can do?” 

“I know just the place,” he grinned back at her, taking his hand off the gun. He turned and opened the passenger door, motioning for her to get in the car, “Hop in. I’ll take you.” 

It took her no time to decide before she plopped down in the seat, and rest the gun between her legs against the dash. The heavy metal door of the classic mustang shut with a loud click and he was in the driver's seat taking off before she could have any second thoughts about Gendry or the everyday life she was escaping. Completely clueless as to her internal struggles, Bronn gave her an excited grin, “I love all kinds of guns, but shotguns are just fun.” 

She couldn’t agree more. Sansa used them when she needed to blow off steam, but truth be told, Arya could appreciate the feel of a shotgun anytime. The ride remained relatively quiet. Bronn never asked about Gendry, or where the gun came from. He didn’t question her labile mood either. She would look over from time to time and see a peaceful grin on his face, as if just being with her was enough. He wasn’t looking for forever, and seemed fine being put off if she chose, too. The man simply appeared to be grateful for the time they spent together. 

This wasn’t love. It didn’t even necessarily feel like lust, either. It was a serenity gained through coexisting in the same vicinity. There were no expectations, just desires. A wanting: to look over and see him looking back, to know what he thought of her, as she wondered what she thought of him. She barely knew Bronn, but already felt so calm in his presence, his ever so deadly presence. 

He was witty, and talkative, most of the times she’d encountered him. However, in these intimate moments, he showed more reservation. When he pulled the car to a stop, Arya looked around to find a couple of targets on trees, and a makeshift counter, with loads of shells on the ground around it, and some overflowing out of target coffee cans. Bronn’s voice filled her ears, “I come out here from time to time, to stay sharp between jobs.” 

“And you would show me this place? Aren’t worried I’ll blab about your secret spot?” Arya teased. 

Bronn took a few steps forward, and gestured for her to go ahead and set her shotgun on the counter. “Were you really paying attention to which roads I took? Or were you too busy staring at me?”

Arya opened the case and gave him a sideways smile. “Why would I be staring at you?” 

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Deciding how best to have your way with me.” 

She blinked back at him, unable to form words. He chuckled as he elaborated, “This is the third time we’ve been out.” 

Arya remembered the comment he’d made the last time she’d seen him and took a swipe at his arm. “Shut up.” 

He feigned pain and stood back as she loaded the gun. Arya handed it to him, “Go ahead, try her out.” 

“Have you yet? Looks brand new,” Bronn looked it over again. 

Arya shook her head. “No, it’s okay. Go ahead.” 

Bronn accepted the gun, eyeing her skeptically. He changed his stance from one side to the other, finding what he felt was the most comfortable. He held the gun for a moment before he finally fired, hitting the target square on. He did it a few more times, trying different positions, until he tore a coffee can in half with the perfect shot, sending empty shells flying. Arya laughed at the sound of them clank as they scattered. 

“She’s certainly a nice piece.” Bronn thrust the stock towards Arya. 

Unable to stop herself from cracking the joke, Arya grinned, “I’ve been called worse.”

“Oh, punky’s feeling feisty.” Bronn held held a hand to his mouth mockingly. 

Arya rolled her eyes and loaded the gun, turning to aim. She fired quickly and was surprised by the kickback on this particular piece. Bronn was beside her in an instant, “Widen your stance.” 

“I’ve been shooting for years--shotguns especially. I know how to stand.” Arya scowled at him. She didn’t need to be corrected. 

Bronn rubbed his chin as he asked, “Yeah? And how long have you had this one again?” 

Less than a day. Arya sighed. Bronn inched closer to her, running his hand over the barrel by the ejection port. “Every gun’s different.” 

“I know that.” Arya’s forehead wrinkled as she watched his fingertips move on the gun.

“I’m sure you do.” Bronn’s voice seemed deeper, more serious. “You just have to learn how this one moves.” 

Arya slowly lifted her gaze from his hands to his face. His eyes were dark with dilation, hunger clear in them. She kept her eyes on his, wetting her lips, as her arms reached forward, setting the gun on the counter. She’d seen this look before, in her dream. So drawn to it in a the ethereal world, a reality that mirrored it was too good to be true. Too good to pass up. With nothing between them, standing inches from one another, Arya put her hand on his chest, as she had back at Wolfswood.

Bronn said nothing, but tilted his head, curiosity glittered in the dark orbs. Arya ignored his silent communication, bringing her other hand to his side, as she stood on her toes to reach higher. She closed her eyes and hoped Bronn would instinctively lean down. When she felt his lips against hers, she was not disappointed. 

It started so soft, so gentle. She wanted more than that, though, and would take what she wanted if she had to. Arya swiped her tongue on his bottom lip, and angled her head, increasing the energy with which she kissed him. She tugged at a few more buttons as she ran her palms over his chest, bringing her pelvis flush against his. Hands that he’d been keeping to himself came down and set on her back, helping to pull her closer to him. 

She broke from his mouth for air, kissing his throat intermittently as she breathed. Bronn kissed her ear and asked, “Not that I’m complaining, punky, but this is a sudden turn of events.” 

It really wasn’t, not if he had seen her dream. Not if he had gone through the rollercoaster of emotions she’d had in the last twenty-four hours. He would know that the simplicity of what they were doing was exactly what she had been craving all day, even if she didn’t know it until right then. She decided that words were overrated and let her hand drift down to his belt. He lifted his head to eye her suspiciously. “You certain?”

Sansa’s words,  _ You love him, _ rang in her ears again _. _ She pictured Gendry’s face smiling at her, from between her legs, from over a pool cue, from behind a mug of beer. He was everywhere, all around her, to the point she wanted to escape. Even for just a short while. She remembered how Sansa labeled them as a couple, and the open marriage she’d talked about from across the sea. Arya compared it to the less than monogamous relationship she had with Gendry, permissing her feelings for him as well as for herself. She thought of the number on the card Gendry pushed on her, and what it would mean if she ever had to call. 

It was all so much to consider that she simply couldn’t anymore. She refused to think about what she wanted, seeking it instinctively. She nodded her head and grinned, “ _ Very _ . I just wanna have  _ a bit of fun _ .” She licked her lips. “Don’t you?”

He was on her in an instant, lifting her legs and wrapping them around him as he brought his lips back to hers. He groaned into her mouth as she returned his kiss, rabidly. She felt a hard lump under her when he set her on the counter. Her fingers thread into his hair, to pull him back as she shoved the shotgun out from under her. He laughed, “Not a fan of things up your ass?” 

She chuckled, “Are you?” 

“ _ Well-- _ ” 

Her mouth covered his, swallowing whatever cheeky response he was poised to give. Bronn’s hands stayed on her hips, just under her shirt, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. Arya brought her free hand to grip his shoulder as she spread her legs further, pressing her core against him. 

Bronn traveled the bumps and divots of her ribcage, cupping one breast through her bra. Arya moaned her encouragement at his bold maneuver, and let her hands move down to his shirt, trying more seriously to unbutton him further. So focused on her own work, and the feel of his hand cupped around her breast, she hadn’t noticed his other hand unbuttoning her jeans and unzipping her fly. 

Her lips tore away from his throat, gasping suddenly at the feel of his hand palming her sex through the damp cotton barrier. It wasn’t anything so shockingly indecent, but coming from him specifically, it felt so much more immoral. Bronn glanced down quickly then smiled against her cheek, “Ya make me feel like a dirty old man, you keep wearing panties like these.”

“Huh?” Arya couldn’t think with him massaging her through the material. 

Having been unable to get past his belt, she shoved her arm down his pants. She reciprocated, caressing his growing bulge. He groaned under her grip, “ _ Wonder Woman. _ ”

Arya only felt mild embarrassment at the realization she’d thrown on a pair of novelty undies that morning. They were not exactly seductive, and only added to their ongoing banter concerning their age difference. Too affected by his touch to dwell on it, she sighed, “So sorry, let me take those off for you.” 

He drove his cock further into her hand and pressed his fingers harder against her, groaning, “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Her intimate muscles tightened and flexed as she chased a more rewarding tingle. As the sensation built, she could hear a persistent vibration in the background. She tried to ignore it, not caring where it originated from. 

When Bronn’s hand left her breast, she couldn’t ignore it anymore. To his credit, he appeared to be trying to do the same, still kissing her as he looked at the phone from his pocket. Sensing his reluctance to be distracted, she capitalized on it, moaning and rocking her hips into his hand as she gave his cock a supportive squeeze. 

His phone buzzed again and he pulled his lips from her, groaning in frustration, “ _ Work _ .” 

“Right now? It can’t wait?” Arya asked annoyed, shifting forward on the counter. She leaned in to kiss his jaw as she appealed to him, “You kill people. You showing up late for work, only improves their quality of life.”

“You’re not making this easy,” he closed his eyes and shook his head. 

Arya yanked her hand from his pants and crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Go.” 

“I’m just as disappointed. We were getting somewhere, you and I.” He kissed her forehead and sighed, “But, I really do have to go.” 

Arya glared at him, unmoved. He kissed her again, trying to soften her. She blinked slowly before she made a show of dropping her gaze down between them. “If you really need to go so bad, then you should probably take your hand out of my pants.” 

“Oh! Right,” Bronn grinned. He slowly retracted his hand, pressing against her as he did. “It’s a shame, really.” 

“What is?” She asked as they walked back to the car. 

Bronn held her door open for her and gave her a wink, “I worked so hard to get it there.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The first five chapters of this piece was edited by Faradaze -- check out her awesome piece about Brienne and Tormund!  
> [Slick As A Baby Seal ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7540495/chapters/17144578)


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